


Fenix

by Pattydcm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pattydcm/pseuds/Pattydcm
Summary: A girl is found dead with a strange drawing engraved on her arm. Sherlock is called to investigate and discovers that the girl has been trapped in a bad net. He doesn't want John to help him with the investigation this time though. It would be too dangerous for John to be beside him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone
> 
> ! This is an experiment!
> 
> I am translating my fanfictions from Italian to English, to allow even people who do not speak Italian to read them. I hope my translation is good and if it wasn't, I apologize.  
> As for 'Fenix', I quarreled with this story. I changed it, cut it, took it apart and reassembled it, and in the end I said I was determined to give it up and move on to something else. But then I understood why I couldn't keep going. As I wrote it, themes, plots, characters were added ... in short, a mess! So I got there, took a deep breath and finally carried on. With all its plots, its characters, its themes and even some forgetfulness, which makes things more interesting.  
> I wanted to tell a story from John's point of view and this could only be a complex work, given the complexity of our doctor's psyche. I got help from Fox, one of my original characters that I have already used in other ff. The big underlying theme could only be what I am banging my head on for work in this period: cyber bullying.  
> I hope you like this ff. It has been pained. Much suffered.  
> Obviously these characters do not belong to me, but they are owned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC in the transposition made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. This story was written for no profit, but for the pure pleasure of writing and telling. I will be pleased to receive your comments and I hope you like the story  
> Enjoy the reading  
> Patty

<< Your opinion, John? >>.

The doctor, who remained diligently as always on the edge of the crime scene, approaches the consultant, who is standing a few steps from the body lying on the floor. He kneels beside what was a beautiful girl of just 16 years old. He sighs trying to remain as professional and detached as possible, as taught him the years of specialization in medicine first and those on the battlefield then. John bring his gloved fingers close to brushing the girl's left arm on which she has engraved, with a razor blade, the strange draw that then killed her, staining the bedroom carpet with her blood.

He turns his gaze to the girl's now pale face, to her half-closed and veiled eyes that fix an indistinct point in front of her, without seeing anything. As far as can be seen from a first observation, there are no traces of violence. Hypostatic spots indicate that the body is there for at least ten hours, twisted on the side, the left arm lying on the ground and the right arm bent on the side. She still holds the blade in her hand.

John approaches the face to sniff the lips in search of the smell of alcohol, poisons or drugs that may have induced the girl to the extreme gesture or that she has introduced to take courage. Nothing.

He puts his hand on the girl's hay-blonde hair, so similar to his in a past age. John pushes the hand away after that light caress, closing it in a fist as he moves away from the girl.

<< Suicide >> he says gravely. << It happened about ten hours ago. She does not seem to have taken any drugs or alcohol, but only an autopsy will be able to confirm everything >> he stands up with a glance at the consultant.

<< She has been determined >> Sherlock says, the hands joined to the chin in that reflective and calm pose that indicates the frenetic work of his brain. << She first traced the drawing, sitting at the desk using that red pen >> he says, pointing to the girl's work surface, where the pen pointing towards the body, like an arrow. << Then she retraced the line with the razor blade. It was a slow, painful job, yet she didn't stop. She managed to complete the work diligently before being seized by the weakness of bleeding >>.

<< Do you find it admirable? >> acid question John, annoyed by the ecstasy he feels in Sherlock's voice.

<< Undoubtedly remarkable >> he replies, looking at what remains of a young life as an admirer who observes a beautiful picture. << Especially if, as you hypothesized, she didn't take drugs or anything else to take courage. This girl wanted to died and did it without hesitation and wanted to leave this message >>.

<< What is the meaning of the drawing? >> Lestrade asks, stopped a few steps from the corps. John recognizes on the detective's face his own attempt at detachment and self-control.

<< I don't know >> Sherlock admits. << But that's what makes an otherwise banal suicide case interesting >>.

<< Sherlock >>, John exclaims exasperated, << we are in front of the corpse of a desperate girl who has made an extreme gesture pushed by who knows what suffering. I will not allow you to minimize what happened, recognizing it as interesting only for an element that caresses your need for complicated cases to solve! >>.

John's harsh words cast silence among those present. Sherlock maintains John's accusing gaze, analyzing his motivation. The unspoken ones hidden between one word and another, scanning John's soul like the light beam of an X-ray. Sherlock nods slightly, accepting the invitation, but without proving that he has understood how unsuitable his attitude is. Just like during that macabre game that Moriarty set up for him only the month before. Here Sherlock gives John a new reason to think that there is nothing human about him. That he is really the sociopath who claims to be.

<< I will need to analyze all the notebooks of the girl and her pc, if we want to find the meaning of the drawing >> Sherlock tells Lestrade as they leave the room to make room for the coroner.

<< Mr. Holmes ... >>.

The girl's mother goes to meet Sherlock, followed by her husband. Both shocked and both hopeful of hearing from the brilliant consultant that no, their child has not decided to commit suicide. Someone must have hurt her. It is easier to accept the idea of violence leading to murder than an incomprehensible gesture like suicide. John has a stern look at Sherlock, who notices it although he pretends nothing.

<< Mr and Mrs Jackson, do you have any idea of the meaning of the drawing that your daughter has engraved on her arm? >> Sherlock asks them, going straight to the point, leaving out pleasantries and condolences. The two spouses look each other, looking for courage in each other.

<< Our daughter attends art school. She has always loved drawing, since she was a child. She has notebooks full of her drawings and is organizing a portfolio to be able to take them around publishing houses, fairs and in all those places where it is possible for a young artist to present her work >> says the mother with a whisper.

<< Rosaline has always shown us of her creations, proudly. Every evening before dinner it is a real parade of sheets of paper >> the father smiles.

John cannot help noticing the use of time in the present. A sign that they have not yet realized, nor do they want to realize, that what is lying on the floor a few meters from them is a corps now lifeless.

<< Did she show you that draw among her drawings? >> John asks, noting how Sherlock has remained too calm to hear the words of the spouses. The two look at each other again.

<< Rosaline showed us so many ... >>.

<< Not in the last period >> says the consultant and the two shiver at his words.

<< Well ... it may happen that an artist has a block or that she work on something so intimate that she still do not want to show it before she have given it shape >> says the father, passing his hand embarrassed on the neck. The mother cries silently, her eyes downcast and her hand, pressed to a handkerchief, pressed to her lips.

<< I ... I suspected there was something, but ... >>.

<< Did you notice something different in her? >> John asks. The woman shakes her head firmly.

<< Nothing different, except the fact that she no longer showed us her drawings, as Mr Holmes said >> she says, just looking up to meet the Sherlock's investigator gaze.

<< Rosaline had already done it in the past ... >>.

<< No, Alfred! >> the woman shouts to her husband. << Stop continuing to repeat it! I felt it ... adolescence and the most intimate issues and all the other nonsense with which you came out every time I pointed out the thing had nothing to do with it. We should have faced her and asked her the reason for that sudden change and maybe ... maybe >> she shuts up, returning to press her hand against her lips. She closes her eyes in a silent cry. The husband, standing a few steps away from her, breathes heavily. John sees in the small distance the crack that will affect their relationship.

<< Yes, it is possible that our daughter had problems and that we did not notice or did not want to see them or ... or I don't know >> the man whispers. << What she did, however ... the way she did it ... is strange. Does not find? >> he hopeful question to Sherlock. John presses his arm against Sherlock's, who just turns to face him before answering.

<< Behind a gesture of this type there can be a thousand reasons, Mr. Jackson. At the moment I have few elements to be able to give you an answer. I need to find out the meaning of that drawing and for this reason, I will have to take away your daughter's notebooks >>.

<< Is it ... is it really necessary? >> asks the woman.

<< You asked me to investigate and I need to have Rosaline's drawings to investigate, Mrs. Jackson. I can guarantee you that I will treat everything with care and that I will return it to you in perfect condition. You has my word >>.

The woman nods slowly and a long, slow tear falls to mark her cheek.

<< Sorry for what happened, Ms Jackson >> John says and she nods with a smile of circumstance.

<< Please excuse us >> says the man, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. The woman shivers at that touch, but lets herself be led elsewhere to avoid witnessing the passage of the coroner's men with the black sack in which their daughter lies.

John leaves the apartment eager for a breath of light air that contrasts the heavy deadly atmosphere in which he has been far too much. On this morning in mid-June the gray sky foreshadows impending rain and certainly does not help to find a good mood.

<< You did not give voice to your deductions >> John says to the consultant, who came to his side.

<< You prevented me from doing it >> Sherlock retorts, intent on reading a message just arrived on his phone. A smile curves his lips, and then immediately disappears.

<< Since when do you listen to what I tell you? >>.

<< Since when are you so involved in a case >>.

Their looks meet for a long moment. John shivers in front of those eyes of ice so serious and severe on him and in response he wears the captain's uniform, stiffening his body ready for battle.

<< A 16 year old girl took her own life, God only knows why, Sherlock. Any human being with a minimum of empathy would be emotionally involved >>.

<< I didn't talk about emotional involvement, John >>.

<< Sure, how could you? You are not able! >> blurts out by taking a step towards him, his fists clenched and his jaw clenched. Sherlock does not make a turn. His eyes remain steady in those of John, who feels mounting too explosive anger.

<< You managed to save her. You prevented such a thing from happening to her too. The only thing I don't understand right now is the reason for all this anger >>.

John blinks several times and a funny expression of amazement is drawn on his face. Sherlock does not wait for an answer from him. He walks the streets of the Pall Mall neighborhood, where the Jackson reside, headed for Trafalgar Square.

John watches Sherlock walk away wondering how he got there. How did he understand. John never mentioned it. Never mentioned it to anyone, to tell the truth. Yet Sherlock understood it. John is amazed, admired, but also frightened. Although six months have passed since he followed Sherlock in his investigations and saw him solve puzzles he still cannot say that he is used to it, by drawing up deductions from things that most people would never have seen.

John shakes himself from his immobility and hurries to reach the consultant, who walks peacefully towards the large fountain in the square.

<< Sherlock! >> he says and the consultant turns to him, slowing his pace until he stops. << You can't tell me such a thing and then leave as if nothing had happened! >> John exclaims panting.

<< I wanted to give you time to elaborate >> he says shrugging. John laughs nervously shaking his head.

<< Stop making fun of me, Sherlock >> retorts seriously.

<< It is not my intention, John >>.

<< Really? >>.

<< Really >>

Their eyes remain hooked again. No, he's not making fun of him. John doesn't even know why he came up with that statement.

<< Why did that girl commit suicide? >>.

<< I don't know, John. I have to understand the meaning of the drawing that she is engraved on the skin before venturing hypotheses >>.

<< I can't believe you don't have even the slightest idea. Three or four always come straight to your minde! >>.

Sherlock begins to walk slowly and John follows him, annoyed by this strange attitude of reserve.

The sound of a masterfully played guitar reaches them. It comes from the fountain in the square, beyond a small group of people grouped around a young street artist. Sherlock heads towards them attracted by the music.

<< Where you are going? >> John asks him amazed, but Sherlock doesn't answer him. He makes his way among people to find a front row seat and the doctor follow him, although he doesn't know exactly what they are going behind. John makes Sherlock way next to him, his clear eyes mesmerized by the boy's fast fingers on the guitar neck.

<< Exceptional >> Sherlock whispers and his lips curve to draw a smile. John rolls his eyes. Since when does Sherlock Holmes get distracted by a song player on the street when he is engaged in a case?

The doctor lets his gaze run from the consultant to the boy with the beautiful deep voice. He plays a guitar that must have seen many adventures, given the amount of scratches and dents. A bright red sticker draws attention to the body of the instrument. It appears to be the stylized muzzle of a fox surrounded by the tail, red as a living flame.

The musician turns to them and John has to admit that he is beautiful. Long, smooth, blond hair, a tanned face with clear blue eyes. The ex-soldier is shaken by that moment of estrangement when he realizes that those sensual eyes are staring intensely at his flatmate. And to make matters worse, which amazes John even more, Sherlock returns his gaze with equal intensity.

The boy finishes the piece and announces that he will perform a medley of covers by different authors. Start the first of these, The Cure's 'Boy don’t cry', and sketch a smile in the direction of the consultant, he reciprocates.

<< Sherlock would not be the case we went home? Greg should have already sent you the drawings of the girl >> John exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest, intimately annoyed by Sherlock's attitude.

The consultant closes his eyes with his hands clasped to his chin, while the guitarist intones an excerpt of The Buggles' 'Video killed the radio star'. He listens to it absorbed in contemplation and it is absurd, since, outside of classical music, everything else for Sherlock is only garbage unknown to his Mind Palace.

<< Are you listening to me? >> John insists, tapping his arm.

<< Of course, John, how could I not hear you, you whisper so loud! >> he blurts out, without opening his eyes to the sound of 'Child in time' by Deep Purple. However, Sherlock does not answer his question. John is about to point it out to him when the boy intones Nirvana's 'Rape me' and Sherlock opens his eyes suddenly.

The doctor finds himself once again moving from one gaze to another, feeling himself the third of a blind date. The guitarist gives new light to his smile, while he perfectly imitates the scratchy voice of Kurt Cobain, and the consultant puts that charming smile on his lips again.

John's stomach boils with anger. So much anger and so much annoyance at the idea of being there, unwanted intruder in front of a silent flirtation.

"Lord, it's not possible!" he thinks, shaking his head. He chasis away the possibility that Sherlock is really flirting a step away from him with a beggar for coins in exchange for out of tune songs. A part of John would like to remind Sherlock that he is married to his job, but he realizes that they don't have that kind of confidence. Six months of living together and they never found themselves joking in a comradely way on women or ... yes, or on men, too. John does not know why it did not happen. He is not the type of man who withdraws from similar dressing room arguments. With Sherlock, however, there is a wall around all this. To protect what, then, is another untouchable topic.

John receives a message that distracts him from the abdominal pain that is coming to him by ruminating anger.

<< Shit >> whispers rolling his eyes.

<< Still in time to fix >> Sherlock says, his eyes closed again in the contemplation of The Beatles' 'Help!'.

<< How can you remember the commitments that I myself forget? >> John question, annoyed by that second unwelcome intrusion into his private life. << We are on a case and I ... >>.

<< I think you should stay out, John >> Sherlock interrupts him.

<< What? >> John asks, incredulously.

<< As I said, you are too involved >>.

<< As would anyone in my place >> burst nervously.

<< Absolutely not. It is not about empathy towards a family caught by such a misfortune >>.

<< So what it is? >> he challenges him, by raising his voice. Some people, annoyed, ask him for silence.

Sherlock finally turns to John. He holds his gaze and John has the annoying sensation of feeling him far away. A lot has changed in the past month. John thought that the adventure lived because of Moriarty, would allow them to come closer. Instead the consultant became colder and more reserved. They are practically elbow to elbow, yet many kilometers seem to separate them.

<< Do you really want me to tell you, John? >> Sherlock asks him in a heavy tone, articulating the words well. In the depth of Sherlock's clear eyes, the doctor realizes that he doesn't want to. No. It better that remain in the past what belongs to the past. << Your new and very recent conquest awaits your response. Don't keep her waiting >> Sherlock adds, even sketching a smile, while the boy intones Ashes Remain's 'End of me'.

"He is leaving me" think irrationally. Sherlock again turn his gaze to the guitarist who ended his medley meaningless. Their eyes still cross, the lips curve in a smile and John decides that he has remained there to act as a candle too much.

<< You are right. Ashley doesn't deserve it >> he says and he's not even sure that that's the girl's name. << See you tomorrow morning >> he says, keening to go away.

<< Good evening >> wishes Sherlock, again kidnapped by the new song that the boy is intoning.

John picks up his cell phone and quickly types the girl's reply message. He hurries to reach Baker Street so he can prepare in a flash and reach the meeting place, hoping not to give the idea of having completely forgotten about it.


	2. Chapter 2

<< Hey, are you listening to me? >>.

The woman slowly hits John's hand and snatches him from his thoughts. John sketches a smile ready to reply with a laconic 'Yes, of course', but he stops. Her impeccably made-up eyes show a clear nuisance, equal to what John felt for the whole day spent together in front of her continuous talk.

<< Sorry, Annette >> this was, in the end, the correct name of the woman. << This morning I had to deal with a really unpleasant situation >> he says and his mind proposes him two images: on one side the lifeless girl; on the other Sherlock who relieves him of the case while exchanging smiles and glances with an unknown vagabond. John doesn't know which one disturbs him most.

<< Oh. What's happened? >> here is the inevitable grip on the maternal and female protective side. John usually pats himself on the shoulder mentally when he manages to attack from that front. This time, however, Annette's hand immediately placed on his hand annoys him. John must make a real effort not to retract it.

<< A girl committed suicide and her family asked my flatmate to investigate >>.

<< Bad story >> she notes serious. << What do you have to do with it? >> asks him and John doesn't hold back from being annoyed this time.

<< I help him in the investigation, Annette >> John replies, punctuating her name with a little too much acidity.

<< You are his blogger >>.

<< And his colleague. I also participate in the cases, not just report what he tells me >> John retorts, clenching his fists.

<< But you're not a detective. You're a doctor >> chuckles the woman, who obviously does not realize how much John's anger is growing.

<< Of course, but I am also an ex-soldier accustomed to the battlefield and action and Sherlock is not a simple detective, but a consulting detective >>.

<< I think he's just a very strange man >> minimize the woman, by swallowing a sip of wine. John is dumbfounded. This woman is irritating. It's irritating the way she speaks, it is irritating the things she says and how she says it and her superficiality. Her judgment about Sherlock is completely out of place, since she does not know him. She cannot even say to knows John, on balance. The doctor chuckles, shaking his head.

<< Jesus, how can you be like this ... >>.

"Idiot!" he would like to conclude, but let the sentence die in laughter. John turns his gaze several times to her confused face and then turns him away, shaking his head.

"When did I fall so low that I wasted my time with such subjects?" he wonders and the expression of disgust that Sherlock assumes in front of human idiocy comes to his mind. John does not realize that he is replicating it very well.

<< Hey, what's going on? >> asks her, blinking her long false eyelashes. She tries to put her hand on John's again, which, however, quickly pushes her away.

<< I think it is better that I go >> he says, getting up from the sofa on which they sat down, after a day spent outside the city, with the only positive note of having escaped the bad downpour that hit London.

<< But ... why? >>.

<< As I said, it was a heavy morning >> John replies, recovering his jacket.

<< Come on, stay with me. I'll make you forget it >> she says mischievously, trying an extreme approach that John refuses, trying to keep the instinct at bay to push her away with a push.

"I will be useless and strange, but for a fuck I am more than good, right?" John would like to tell her, but he bites his tongue trying to be kind in spite of everything.

<< Annette, really, I prefer to go >>.

John doesn't escape him the grimace of contempt in her face that quickly turns into a fake sadness.

<< Okay, I understand >> she mind, moving away from him a good two steps. John goes to the door that opens by himself.

<< Good night >> he says and so they say goodbye. Without a comfortable kiss, without a 'see you'. Yet another fruitless attempt to combine something with a woman.

"Thanks a lot, Sherlock!" John thinks annoyed. Although this time John has to say that he doesn't mind at all. He should stop inviting or accepting invitations from anyone without applying a minimum of selection. Not to the point of becoming tranchant as unlikely as his flatmate, who considers the world populated by idiots. John can't imagine Sherlock on a date. Sherlock Holmes who tries to know and be known by another human being ... no, impossible!

"So what did you see at the fountain this morning?"

John turns up his nose at the question, that rings in his head with the voice of his sister. In this too long day spent in the company of too many words of that woman, the thought of what happend in Trafalgar Square went several times to his minde.

Especially how it can be continued.

<< It will not be continued, let alone! >> he chuckles confidently, deciding to dismiss it as a matter of fact.

It is not even ten pm when John arrives at 221B. Bach welcomes him, by announcing that the great consulting detective is meditating on the case from which he raised him. The curiosity to know what Sherlock deduced that morning in the girl's bedroom grips John. On the return journey he thought of many valid arguments to convince Sherlock to participate in the investigation. From those calmly exposed to those imposed with a big voice and threats. John already knows that he will compose a sort of medley starting from the first and then going to ruin on the last.

Strangely, the music stops when John reaches the landing floor. Sherlock is used to guess who is coming to visit from the sound of footsteps and when he plays the violin he continues tirelessly without even saying 'Hello'. Indeed, without even realizing that John has returned, to be honest.

<< What are you doing here? >> Sherlock welcomes him, even before John takes a step inside the apartment.

<< I live here, have you forgotten? >> John replies, displaced by his welcome, putting perhaps a little too much acidity in the tone. Yes, it is possible that he'll start immediately with the 'big voice and threats' option tonight.

<< She was so boring that it is not worth spending the night with her. I knew it! Never can be trusted >> the consultant shakes his head, annoyed.

<< I apologie so much if I interrupted your reflections! >> John bursts on a war footing. << Why don't you continue as if nothing had happened, as you usually do? I'm used to being ignored >> he says, entering the kitchen. A hot tea to engage his hands and prevent him from getting into a fight is what it takes. John feels Sherlock's gaze behind him. Strangely, Sherlock does not reply. 'Mister last word' does not reply. Nor does he go back to playing.

"This is the day of oddities!" John thinks and his eye falls on an abandoned backpack next to the table, cluttered with laboratory equipment. He turns to ask for explanations and only now does he see it. A guitar lying at the foot of the sofa.

John's throat dries instantly and the stomach draws all the blood from the body. He turns his gaze to Sherlock standing still, his arms crossed over his chest and his serious eyes fixed on him. John realizes only now that he is wearing a dressing gown. The dressing gown and ... nothing else.

<< How you can use that shampoo? It smells too strong and ... >>.

The man freezes. A towel on the head to rub wet hair, the other tight around the waist. John blinks several times, in front of that unexpected and half-naked presence in front of him.

<< Oh ... hello! >> says the man, placing the towel on his head like a turban. He smiles holding out his hand ready to introduce himself, but freezes in front of John's gaze. The musician calls his hand to himself and turns his gaze to Sherlock and then to the doctor a couple of times, becoming more serious.

<< If my presence here is not welcome, I can ... >>.

<< No! >> John exclaims interrupting him, his hand open towards the man and the sketch of a forced smile on his face. << I apologise me, rather. I didn't want to interrupt you. I go to my room. Have a nice evening >> John wishes them, striding to the door.

He closes it behind him and stays there, his hand resting on the door knob. He can't think. He can't move. He only feels the slow rhythm of his breathing rumbling in his head. John takes a good number of breaths before he can break away from there and slowly climb the steps. He remains attached to the door handle of his room again.

"Oh, stop that!" shouts his sister's voice. “Why this stupid reaction? You too have brought women here in these six months. "

"Not to have sex with them."

"If they too, like that man, hadn't had a place to stay, wouldn't you have brought them here?"

John thinks about it. Interesting and uncomfortable question to which he does not want to answer.

"Really immature attitude" spits acid the voice of his father. The one that hurts him, among all the voices that populate his head.

"No! I would not have brought them for the simple fact that I would not have liked to see them running away horrified by the corpses in the fridge, by the experiments he carries out on organs and cells of human or animal origin or in front of his offensive deductions! " John retorts acid.

"Only for this?" his sister's voice mischievously asks. No, obviously it's not just for this. John invited at home the first woman he had wooed in the first weeks spent on Baker Street. John remembers all too well the way she looked at Sherlock. The smiles she gave him and her flirting with Sherlock with impunity, despite his presence.

"You fear that if you bringing women here, they might be interested in him by forgetting you, isn't it?" Harry continues in her hateful tone. John nods and runs his hand over his disconsolate face.

"Well, as you can see he is 'on the other side'" Harry chuckles satisfied.

"And I'm at both!" John silences her. The consulting detective, married to his job, has brought home a not bad prey. The idea that they have already given vent to that attraction of which he was an involuntary witness, and that they will continue throughout the night, closes John's stomach.

"How selfish you are!" continues his sister. "You have been literally have women of all colors since you are here. Sherlock is the first time that ...".

“What a first time! I have been absent several times in these six months, spending the night out often and he must have taken the opportunity to take home who knows who! ".

“So now you judge him because he brings beautiful strangers to bed? It doesn't seem to me that you are doing anything different, Johnny! ”.

<< They are not men! >> he exclaims loudly, then bringing both hands to his mouth. The breath stops for a long moment.

"What does that mean? You made yourself men of every color under your weapons. Do you become homophobic?"

No. John is not homophobic. Indeed, that is a mentality that he repudiates and doesn't tolerates. As a civilian, he never went into action with a man. That was the prerogative of his life as a soldier. There has been no lack of opportunities to him even in these months, but he has given up.

"Why?".

<< You know why, Harry >> he says, reaching the bed with a heavy step. John lets himself fall on his stomach on the soft mattress and on the sheets that give him the good and still fresh scent of the fabric softener. This bed seems so immensely empty to him tonight. Given the location of their respective rooms, he knows that no disturbing noise should disturb him. The passing passions are consumed in one night and certainly the same will happen with this. John postpones everything the next day, sure that he can go down to prepare a tea without finding the presence of the intruder anymore. Now, he turns off the spotlight on this long day full of too many emotions.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

John knocks on the front door and at the same time he feels himself an idiot. John opens it slowly without waiting for an answer and finds Sherlock sitting in his armchair, his eyes closed and his hands joined under his chin. John takes advantage of his flatmate's stay in his Mind Palace to quickly look around. There isn't the backpack in the kitchen and there isn't the guitar at the foot of the sofa. Only many notebooks and sheets of different types of paper bearing drawings and sketches scattered almost everywhere. They must surely be Rosaline Jackson's drawings, diligently delivered by Lestrade's men.

John smiles satisfied and goes to the kitchen for a well-deserved breakfast. He puts on the tea, takes his cup, the packet of biscuits from under the cupboard and places everything on the kitchen table. John leans on the sink drinking and eating standing up and looks at Sherlock absorbed in his thoughts. Although they are far apart, the first thing he finds in Sherlock are any signs that the hours of passion have left on him white skin. Strangely, John doesn't find any. Of course it doesn't mean anything, not everyone likes them or everyone doesn't doing them in clearly visible places. Someone like Sherlock, then, so attentive to detail, certainly would not tolerate such a visible brand on his immaculate skin.

John realizes that his way of looking at Sherlock has changed. Everything that John previously thought about and that he represses by repeating that 'Sherlock is married to his job and uninterested in such human and earthly things as sex and effusions', now they come overbearing to his mind, also affecting his body.

The worst part is that John cannot stop this indecent flow of forbidden thoughts now that he perceives him as available and potentially interested.

"We are flatmates, this makes him untouchable" he says, trying to keep himself calm. "And then, fuck, did you see the guy who went to bed with him? When could I ever compete with one like this? A few years ago, maybe ... and if I were half a meter taller, too. "

These devaluing thoughts have the right effect. John's 'little friend on the floor below' calms down and the bell that rings, breaking the silence, completes the return to work.

John hears Mrs. Hudson go to open and then Greg's heavy and fast steps on the stairs, which John too is now able to recognize.

Sherlock leaves his Mind Palace and turns his gaze to the door at the exact moment it opens, introducing the detective into their private space.

<< It happened again >> says the consultant, arching just an eyebrow. Greg nods and John feels his stomach close.

<< Another girl. Daisy Cooper. Eighteen years old. On the opposite side of London. Totally different social background >>.

<< The only thing they have in common is that drawing >> notes Sherlock. He closing his eyes again.

<< Yes >> Greg nods and runs his hand over his bristler beard than usual. << I brought you the photos taken in her house and I have already told the SC to send here the PC and all the notebooks and books in the girl's room. Did you find anything in the material that was brought to you yesterday? >>.

<< Nothing relevant. Apart from the presence of that drawing practically everywhere, in an obsessive way >> Sherlock replies and John turns up his nose. He knows well how his flatmate spent the afternoon and also the night. John really doesn't think Sherlock had time to rummage through the personal belongings of the young Rosaline. He cannot understand why the consultant is taking this case lightly, to the point of allowing himself an escapade in full investigation.

Greg takes the pager out of his pocket and checks it. << I have to go. I'll wait for you at the Cooper house, Sherlock, okay? >> he says, reaching the door. The consultant nods and with a gesture from the chief the detective greets and descends the stairs. As soon as the door is closed, Sherlock leaps to his feet and starts pacing back and forth across the living room, his hands clasped under his chin.

<< Two girls who didn't know each other, coming from totally different environments, commit suicide and the only thing they have in common is that drawing >> he says, pointing to the open photo left in plain sight on his armchair.

The doorbell rings by interrupting Sherlock's loud arguments.

<< Lestrade back here? He will have forgotten something ... >> he stops, by refining his hearing. John looks at the door, amazed by the consultant's behavior. He hears footsteps slowly climbing the stairs.

<< It's not Greg >> he says and Sherlock nods.

Someone knocks waiting diligently for permission to enter. The door opens slowly and a boy peeks into the room.

<< Oh >> Sherlock exclaims, blinking several times.

<< Good morning >> greets the boy, by closing the door behind him.

<< Good morning to you >> the consultant welcomes him. << How can we help you? >>.

The boy glances at the chair that they usually offer to customers and Sherlock takes it. He put the chair to form the top in a perfect triangle with their two armchairs and with a gesture of the hand invites the boy to sit down. Sherlock sits down in his armchair and John, who realizes only now that he is still in his pajamas, takes his place by putting his hand in the faithful notebook.

<< Does your father know you didn't go to school this morning? >> Sherlock asks the boy, who almost risks falling from the chair he just sat on. He turns a worried look on the consultant, who in return observes him calmly.

<< Is it true, then, what he says about you? >>.

<< I don't know. What does he say about me? >>.

<< That you just need a glance to understand everything and that you are never wrong >>.

<< Kind of him >> he smiles. << But it also happens to me, sometimes, very rarely, to make mistakes >>.

John rolls his eyes at that strange admission of fallibility.

<< According to my mother, however, you are an impostor and a profiteer >>.

John stifles a laugh, bringing his hand to cover his lips. Note a similarity in the tone of the voice, in the expression and in the way the boy moves ... but he puts it away shaking his head. Sherlock glares at him.

<< Which version do you prefer? >> go back to ask the boy.

<< Dad's one >> answers confidently. << I stopped believing in mom from a long time >> the boy whispers, looking at the tennis shoes.

<< I agree with your choice >>.

<< Sherlock! >> John calls him, who does not find it very appropriate to take sides of one parent rather than the other.

<< If you listened to your intuition, instead of silencing it as always, and if you observing rather than looking, you would understand the reason for what I just said, John >> he replies, addressing him in an unusual way in the presence of a client. << Since my colleague has not understood who you are, can you please introduce yourself? >> he asks the boy, who witnessed that scene incredulously.

<< I am George Lestrade >>.

<< Are you ... Greg's son? >> John asks in amazement. George nods, blushing and the similarities John has noticed and set aside, come back to show him how the young man is the rejuvenated and miniature copy of his detective friend. << Jesus. I knew he had children, but I didn't think they were so big >> he adds, shaking his head in disbelief and the boy runs his hand through his hair in the same gesture of nervousness as his father.

<< Well, now that we have established who half of your genetic heritage belongs to, can you tell us what brings you here at this hour, facing the risk that your parents will discover that you have skipped school? >>.

<< A much more important thing than six hours of useless idiocy >> reply George, annoys annoyed, crossing his hands on his chest. The exact, identical pose of his father in the face of the consultant's devaluations. John finds himself having to stifle another laugh. << I would prefer if what I am about to tell you remains between us >>.

<< Why? >> asks Sherlock and John notes that in fact it is the first time they find themselves listening to a minor. He even fears that they are already doing something contrary to the law, since the boy is there without parental consent.

<< Have you noticed the conditions in which my father is involved, I guess? >> he says with a remarkable language property for his age. Both nod and exchange glances. << He is already taking too many from my mother, lawyers and judges. I do not want this thing to come to give him other concerns >>.

John and Sherlock exchange another look, both new to a similar situation.

<< It is admirable that you do not want to give your father further concerns >> John starts groping.

<< The fact that he is divorcing your mother does not relieve him of his duties as a father. Whatever you are about to tell us, he has a duty to take care of you and you have the right to be protected by him >>.

John is amazed at Sherlock's sensible and adult speech. The boy shakes his head in annoyance and clenches his fists, giving the idea of not having acepted what he has been told at all.

<< However >>, adds Sherlock, << nothing prevents us from listening to what you have to tell us and then decide if it is appropriate to load him with this additional weight or not >>.

The doctor turns up his nose unconvinced by this last joke. But he see George relaxing and taking a breath.

<< Thank you >> the boy says, sketching a smile. << It doesn't concern me directly. It's for my sister >>.

<< She is older than you, isn't she? >> asks John.

<< Three years. He's 16 and doesn't know I'm here. I don't think she would approve, but ... I don't care! I do not ... I can no longer silently witness the series of disasters around me >>.

He looks down trying to regain control of himself. John turns his gaze to Sherlock, who does not distract his from the boy, while giving him time to compose himself and continue.

<< Daddy came to pick us up at school yesterday. Always he go get me first and then let's go get Lizzy together. I'd heard about the Pall Mall girl's suicide and asked him if he was working on it. He said yes even though, as always, he didn't go into detail. He's afraid of traumatizing me, as my mother always tells him >> he says, twisting his nose. << While we waited, Lizzy, dad received a phone call and got out of the car, always to avoid traumatizing me >> he rolls his eyes. << And I, as always, peeked through his papers. I was sure to find what I eventually found >>.

<< What? >> John asks.

George takes his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, fiddles over it looking for something and then shows it to them. << I think you know this. Dad told me that the girl's family has entrusted the case to you. This, however, is what I know >> he says, sliding his finger on the screen of the smartphone, to show a previous image of the same design.

<< Where did you find him? >> John asks, while Sherlock takes the phone from the boy's hand.

<< My sister did it. Draw that damned phoenix everywhere now! >> says visibly shivering and John with him.

<< Is it a phoenix? >> John question, peeking at the drawing.

<< Yes. The logo of that damned portal >> George says, passing his hand through his hair.

<< Fenix >> Sherlock intervenes, taking them by surprise.

<< Do you know him? >> George asks hopefully.

<< I ran into it yesterday, while I was working on the Jackson case >> Sherlock says, glancing at John. John looks at him incredulously. He was more than convinced that Sherlock hadn't taken a step on that investigation and now he can't help he look idiotic. He look away embarrassed.

<< It is a help and self-help site for teenagers >>.

<< Apparently, Mr. Holmes! >> says George, moving nervously on the chair. << When Lizzy told me about it, I went for a ride and it didn't seem so bad. Later, however, I saw her get worse. At the beginning, she spoke continuously of the tutor who had been entrusted to her on the site. She had a crush with him and I tought that it was a good thing. At least it was something vivifying. Then the invitations began to arrive >>.

<< What invitations? >> asks John, whose stomach starts to ache.

<< It is the second phase >> Sherlock replies, giving the boy the cell phone. << First they lure the kids with the facade as a support site. Then they identify the most fragile ones and invite them to attend seminars >>.

<< Exactly! Fuck, then I had seen right! >> George exclaims enthusiastically. << In according to me this invitations sounded strange because they did not ask for any authorization from the parents. It do not reassured me that Lizzy said they happened in public places. I secretly followed her to one of the last public seminars she attended. I didn't like at all the adults who held it! >> George shakes his head in disgust.

<< One of the last audiences? Does that mean that there are also private individuals? >>.

<< It is the beginning of the third phase >> Sherlock nods and George looks at him worried, his hands graps at the edge of the seat. << A further selection is made at public seminars and only a few of the young guests are invited to private ones. I don't know much about this part yet. The bastards who run this site are damn good at hiding their movements >> Sherlock says between his teeth.

<< Lizzy came very shaken by the only one she attended two weeks ago >> George intrudes, eager to say what he knows. << I was afraid they had done something bad >> he says visibly swallowing. << Lizzy continued, however, to say that it was not fair they had thrown her out of the group >>.

<< Why would they do it? >> John asks.

<< They found out that she is the daughter of a Scotland Yard's inspector >> Sherlock replies with that irritating tone of obvious.

<< I thought so too >> George nods. << Since then I have seen her get worse. She hasn't said anything to me anymore. She stays closed for hours in her room. She doesn't go out anymore. She doesn't eat anymore. I tried to tell mom, but she >>, George says between his teeth in a bad expression of anger, << She only thinks of herself and that idiot of her lover >>. He growls by sinking his nails into his thigh. << Mom says that it's adolescence, which will happen to me and all these bullshit. All Lizzy has been doing for two months now are normal changes due to adolescence! Mom does not realize, however, that Lizzy is sinking more and more >> he says, the voice broken by emotion. << Dad noticed Lizzy changement and tried to talk to mom and she ... >> George sighs, closing his eyes for a long moment. << It ended as always. With a fight between them and dad was thrown out of the house, accused of not being a good father, of seeing the rottenness behind everything, of being a detective even in our home >> he concludes in a whisper.

<< You didn't tell either of them what your sister did two months ago >> deduces Sherlock and the boy looks at him in amazement. George swallows several times before slowly nodding, his gaze down. << And you fear that she will repeat it >> Sherlock adds and the boy tightens his eyes from which some tears fall.

A painful stab pierces John's stomach who barely holds back a moan. He brings his hand to his aching belly and Sherlock turns to him with a strange expression of frowning concern. John try to reassure him, by sketching a smile, which however has no effect.

<< When I saw that phoenix engraved on that girl's skin, I shivered. Even Lizzy often draws it on her wrist >> says George absently, caressing the veins at the base of his hand. << Mr. Holmes, I am really worried about my sister. Sometimes I can't stand her and I would like to eject her out of the window with my hands, but since I saved her ... >> he lets slip away immediately, biting his lip. << I discovered that I have a terrible fear of losing her >> he says and a lonely tear escapes his control and draws a trail on his cheek still hairless.

'I saved her'. This short sentence pronounced by George's immature voice has the power to take John's breath away. Disconnected images of a distant past come overbearing to him. John tries to chase them away, but he can't. His gaze fixed on George, who dried the embarrassed tears that streaked his face. This kid experienced something very similar to what he experienced at his own age. John is very sorry for this. He coughs to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat and tries to ignore Sherlock's gaze on him.

<< Will you tell my father, Mr. Holmes? >> George asks him worried.

<< Not immediately >> replies the consultant. << I need to reflect on some things. Here is my number >> he says, giving him a business card. << Keep me updated on what is happening at home and call me if you need. I will put one of mine on your sister, so that he control her and prevent her from doing crazy things. What you told me is very useful for the case we are conducting together with your father. I will do everything I can to get your sister out of this situation >>.

George appears more serene and visibly relieved. A beautiful smile is born on his lips and looking at him John realizes that it has really been a long time since he has seen Greg smile the same way. The detective is not the type of man that bestow many smiles on, but on carefree evenings in the pub John occasionally saw him relax to the point of smiling and laughing out loud. The world is collapsing on their friend. It collapses because of the job he loves and that is not accepted by those who thought he loved him.

"It is terrible not to be welcomed for what you are from your family," Harry's voice whispers in his mind and John really struggles, this time, to hold back his tears.

<< I think you are still in time to enter to school at the second hour >> Sherlock says to the boy, standing up. George imitates him and so does John.

<< Thank you, Mr. Holmes >> he says, holding out his hand visibly more serene. Sherlock squeezes it and dismisses him with a pat on the back.

The doctor and the consultant stand by and watch the door until they hear the door close behind George Lestrade as well.

<< You risk being late in the clinic, John >> says Sherlock, typing frantically on his cell phone. John looks at the clock on the clock and mutters a curse. He should already be washed, dressed and on the street by this time. He finds out that he doesn't give a damn.

<< I want to participate in the investigation >> John says, resolutely. Sherlock looks at him wrong.

<< I don't think so. You are even more involved than before >>.

<< Greg is my friend, Sherlock, and his daughter got into a big bad trouble >> growls, clenching his fists. Anger begins to boil in John's contracted belly.

<< You were out of breath in front of George's story and I don't think I have to tell you why >>.

<< They are things that are part of the past. They hurt me, of course, but they are gone and I am able to manage them >>.

<< You are sure, John >> Sherlock asks him, looking up from the message he received to bring him on him. John supports him, resolute and convinced, taking a step towards him.

<< Of course I'm sure, Sherlock >> says between his teeth, trying to hold back the explosion. << How I'm sure you haven't dedicated the attention it deserves this investigation >>.

The consultant raises an eyebrow.

<< I am dedicating on it >>.

John laughs nervously. An unpleasant laugh, full of anger, which amazes the consultant.

<< For six months I have been helping you in your cases and in this period of time I have seen you not sleeping and not eating until you came to terms with it. Yesterday, however, I'm going home and you was here in ... company >> he says, giving him an eloquent glance.

<< I hosted a man for one night. I don't see what's wrong >> Sherlock says, typing a message quickly.

<< You do not see what ... >> John blurts, raising his hands to heaven. << Do you want me to believe that while a stranger was sleeping in your bed you were awake working on the case? >>.

<< As I always do, John >> Sherlock replies, reading a message just received. << This is the difference between you and me: I can control my emotions, you don't >> Sherlock says and the look of superiority that he dedicates to him does not like the ex-soldier at all.

<< What would you like to say with this? >> asks John. Sherlock remains calm in his place, his eyes fixed on John's.

<< For six months you have been bringing here always different women and I am not doing the scenes you are doing >> Sherlock replies, sternly.

<< None of them ever stopped here for the night, Sherlock >> John growls, clenching his fists tightly.

<< Is this the problem, John? Does it bother you that I shared my bed with a man? >> Sherlock provokes him with the look and the tone he usually devotes to people he considers idiots, before going back to writing a message. John can't stand the little consideration he gives him by breaking it up with the constant messages he reads and sends. Driven by anger, John grabs the wrist of Sherlock's right hand in which he holds the cell phone and squeezes it with his small but strong hand.

Rough, violent images invade John's mind, who is breathlessly. Sherlock looks at him amazed by his gesture and squeezes his eyes just a little from the pain of that grip that becomes stronger and stronger. This is enough to cool the doctor.

"What the hell are you doing, Johnny?"

John frees Sherlock's wrist from his grip and takes two steps backwards, shaking his head. John brings his hands to his mouth and feels them tremble slightly, shaken by this violent anger that still invades his body. They were talking about the case, about Greg and his daughter and he turned the conversation on that damned guitarist.

<< Forgive me ... I lost my mind >> John mumbles, keeping his eyes down.

<< I see it >> Sherlock replies, massaging the wrist. << Yours is a real jealousy scene and I really don't understand it, since I don't think we're together! >>.

A terribly painful twinge pierces John's stomach. He bites his lip so as not to miss any moan.

<< You are right. We are not together >>.

<< You always say that too >>.

<< It is true. You are right. Sorry, is that ... I didn't expect you ... >>.

<< What? >>.

<< You said you were married to your job. Anyway, it's not my business >> he says, stopping Sherlock attempt to reply. << Do you think you can ... forget what happened in the last minutes? >>.

<< No >> admits the consultant, his hand still massaging the injured wrist. << I insist in saying that you are too involved. Not only from the case of girls, apparently >>.

“Of course, because you doesn't get involved. A one-night adventure and then everyone on their way. "

Anger boils up again and John makes an effort not to go back to giving his worst. John first boasts countless one-night adventures with subjects whose name he doesn't even remember.

<< Okay >> John accepts defeated and the twinge in the stomach becomes even stronger.

<< I have to go to the second victim >> cut Sherlock short, by typing yet another message. He puts the cell phone back in his pocket, puts on his jacket and John sees a red and bruised bracelet showing off around his wrist. John shakes his head, passing his hand to wrinkle his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he asks himself, while, without saying a word, as he usually does since John knows him, Sherlock leaves the apartment quickly descending the stairs. The closing door hits John like a slap in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The shift in the clinic is slow and boring. Colds, rheumatism, gastritis ... must be the equivalent of jealous husbands and petty thefts from Sherlock's point of view. John has made up for the hour of delay and is about to leave, waiting for the clock of the stamping machine to strike at six. He has repeatedly thought of sending a message to Sherlock, both to apologize for the illogical gesture he has made, and to ask for updates on the case. John wrote many texts between one patient and the other, but in the end he always deleted them, putting away his cell phone with a sigh of heartache. Yet another painful twinge pierces his stomach and takes his breath away. John puts his hand on it and tries to breathe deeply to relieve the pain.

<< John, are you all right? >>.

Sara looks at him worried and he smiles to her. Everything he wants except having to entertain himself to talk about his gastric problems with a pseudo ex.

<< Just a little stress >> he says, minimizing the situation.

<< Are you still try to running after your flatmate? >>.

"Why don't you do your business?" John thinks, biting his tongue so as not to give them a voice.

<< I help him when I can >> he answers, staring at that damned clock's hand that is taking too long to move on the 12.

<< It seems to me more than anything else that you come to help us when you can >>.

<< If it's a problem, Sara, we can talk about it >> retorts acid. Too acidic.

"Shut up, Johnny! You need this job!" reminds him his sister's voice and John immediately turns on the best of his smiles.

<< I don't want to cause any damage to the clinic >> he adds docile.

<< In truth you advertise us >> reveals the woman. << Since the name of your friend started to circulate, thanks to the stories you publish about him on your blog, we have increased the number of patients. Many people come to be treated by the famous doctor Watson >>.

<< Really? >>.

<< Sure. Except that the doctor is never there. 'You know how it is, he's on a mission with the private investigator' >>.

<< Consulting detective >> John corrects her, too acid again.

<< Oh. Yes, what it is >>.

<< Well, I should ask you for a percentage, apparently >> he laughs and Sara joins his laugh.

<< Forget it! >> she retorts, immediately returning serious. << The percentage is the possibility of entering late, exiting early, leave patients in the queue and troubles to colleagues. I would say that is enough, don't you think? >>.

<< I would say yes >> John answers, feeling himself as a child in front of Sara's severe gaze.

<< In any case, running after Sherlock is good for you. I find you in splendid shape >> she smiles mischievously, but John has no desire to reopen closed chapters.

<< Thank you >> he smiles, stamps the badge and disappears beyond the door. John walks to the tube, with one hand on the hip and the doubt of having to start worrying about these sudden pains.

He suddenly stops at the entrance to the tube. A couple of people send him to hang out for that sudden arrest, but he doesn't mind. John sees Sherlock standing in an alley not far away. He is not alone. The person he is talking to, however, is in the shade.

John moves quickly across the street. He slows down his pace, stops in a corner, that he hopes will be repaired him at the detective's insightful sight and looks at him. From that different and closer perspective, John realizes that Sherlock is talking animatedly to a man. Black hair, black clothes, studded boots, he has all the air of being a punk, or a dark or whatever else this movement has become in the modern era. The man passes him a cigarette and Sherlock takes a shot before returning it to him. John isn't exactly sure what they are smoking is simple tobacco. He doesn't like that Sherlock use drugs at all during an investigation, especially this investigation.

John hears Sherlock laugh. A free and cheerful laugh that Sherlock rarely allows himself and that John had deluded himself that the consultant dedicated only to him. The punk in turn laughs and hands him the cigarette again. No, it definitely cannot be simple tobacco. When Sherlock gives it back to him, the man grabs his wrist, the same one that John squeezed. He seems to be asking him something and when Sherlock minimizes the man turns on. John tends his ears, hoping that the wind is favorable and brings him some excerpt of conversation. Unfortunately, however, the air is still and John must be content with looking and he doesn't likes what he sees. Sherlock seems to be saddened by the punk's excited words. He shakes his head, dejected, and the punk reassures him by caressing his face. The consultant gladly accepts that cuddle, as well as the man'sface that comes closer to his more and more. Although John only sees the back of the punk's neck, who impales his flatmate's face, what he is doing is eloquent.

"Not only does he smoke during the investigation, always assuming he is investigating, but also ... this too!" he blurts up from his observation post, not at all intending to stay there to watch their effusions. The guitarist was already enough for him.

John goes down to the tube and doesn't have to have a kind expression on his face, given the way people look at him. He doesn't give a damn. They can even believe that he is a potential murderer. The anger that seethes in his viscera, in fact, cries out the need to lead his hands as long as there is.

It cannot be a coincidence. John cannot be stumbled upon by chance in two intimate moments of his flatmate with strangers. It must be, as he has already assumed, a regular situation.

"What's wrong with that?" Harriet asks him in his head. John shakes his head to chase her away once more. His sister with her questions almost as sharp as Sherlock's. She with her hidden truths that when they come to the surface do harm, above all harm him. Just like Sherlock's hidden truths. Apparently, the consultant and his sister have many more things in common than he ever thought. They are both homosexuals, both victims of an addiction they cannot handle, both selfish and both born, it seems, to drive him crazy.

<< Jesus, enough! I am out of this case >> he says between his teeth and the old woman sitting next to him moves slightly away from him, alarmed.

John arrives at 221B with the mood under his heels and that pain in the abdomen more insistent than ever. He will have to take a gastric protector, otherwise he risks an ulcer, which is not a welcome prospect. He takes a long shower feeling the need for hot water to relax his neck, his shoulders contracted and to wash away his thoughts. When he comes out the bathroom, John finds the consultant sitting in his armchair. John nods and puts the kettle on.

<< Could you making tea for me too? Thanks >> Sherlock asks and the fact that he thanked him is a real novelty.

<< Actually I'm putting on a chamomile tea >>.

<< I didn't even know we had any at home >> Sherlock replies. << You don't feel well >> he notes and John doesn't like his eyes on him at all.

<< I don't feel well, yes >> he admits between his teeth. However, he does not want to undermine the beneficial effect of the shower. He turns to take the cup from the cupboard and winces at finding Sherlock so close.

<< What have you got? >> Sherlock asks. John reads a note of concern in his clear eyes and, god, if they are even more beautiful seen so closely.

<< The stomach upside down >> he says, looking away from him.

<< I believe it, you eat crap >>.

<< I at least eat, Sherlock >>.

<< If this is the result, it would be worth fasting too, wouldn't you? >>.

John holds his breath and counts up to ten, always in the hope of not loosing the effect of the shower. In a sense, Sherlock is worried about him, so he appreciates at least the effort.

<< You smoked >> John notes severe.

<< The irregular I put behind Lizzy offered me a shot and I accepted it out of courtesy >>.

"Sure. What else have you accepted out of courtesy? " but this is better keep it to himself. Remember: do not loosing the beneficial effects of the shower!

<< Did you put a vagabond behind a girl? >>.

<< The fastest way to track her down and not lose sight of her >> Sherlock says, shrugging. John sighs and decides to let it go.

<< How's the girl? >>.

<< She is shock. With what she is experiencing it is understandable. I told Peter to convince her to come to me of her own will to tell me everything >>.

Peter. He also has a name to send curses on, now.

<< Did he manage to speak to her? >>.

<< Yes, he approached her. Peter is very good with words. He hasn't convinced her yet, though, but I'm confident. I still give him some time >>.

<< You trust a lot of this irregular >> John says, with a touch of acidity that does not escape the consultant.

<< Of him as of all the others, otherwise I would not take them into account >>.

<< Sure >> he says, keeping calm. << Then let's wait and hope for the best. Are you planning to let Greg know about this story? >>.

<< I will have to do it anyway, given the recent developments >> Sherlock sighs, bringing his hand to his eyes. He looks tired and visibly tried. John has never seen him like this and feels the absurd desire to comfort him. John sees Sherlock carry his hand on the wrist, that he mistreated that morning, on which a purple bracelet now stands out.

<< Show it to me >> he says and the consultant takes a moment to understand what he is referring to. Sherlock gives to him his bruised wrist and John turns his nose up at the ability of that white skin to blacken at the first tap he suffers.

"You actually squeezed he hard on the wrist, Johnny," Harriet says, making him snort.

<< Stay here >> John orders, by going to the bathroom. Come back with a tube of ointment in his hand. John invites Sherlock to sit at the chair of the kitchen table, always cluttered with chemist's equipment, and the consultant performs docile. Too docile.

John unbuttons Sherlock's cuff and rolls up his midnight blue shirt up to his elbow. He puts a small quantity of ointment on Sherlock's wrist and start massaging it.

<< This stuff is freezing! >> Sherlock exclaims, trying to take the wrist from John's hands.

<< It is an ointment for bruises. It must be freezing, Sherlock >> John explains, continuing his work undaunted.

A strange silence falls between them. John holds Sherlock's hand, while massaging him wrist . It's crazy. All the times he has to touch his body it is to medicate him.

"You are his doctor, what should you do otherwise?".

John sighs, shaking his head slowly. Unexpectedly, Sherlock shakes his hand and John looks up to meet his eyes.

<< What's wrong with you tonight? >> Sherlock asks, his eyebrows arched in a funny expression between the worried and the confused.

<< My stomach is upside down, I told you >>.

<< What is it that you don't digest? >> he asks and those words are enough to make John understand what his malaise comes from.

<< The situation >> he answers, keeping his eyes down on the massage he is carrying out on Sherlock's wrist.

<< That's why I insisted that you stay out of it, John >> sighs Sherlock, shaking his hand once more. The doctor responds to the grasp and his massage becomes slower and with the fingertips.

<< No. The investigation has nothing to do with it >> John chuckles nervously, caressing that thin but strong wrist.

<< So what? >>. John knew that his flatmate would not stop and that he would to have a reply from him. Sherklock would not be the infallible and brilliant consulting detective that he is, if he did not get to the bottom of everything.

<< I saw you today >> John admits, continuing to touch Sherlock's wrist. << It was a coincidence, I didn't do it on purpose. Indeed I would have preferred not to see you >>.

<< What did you see? >> Sherlock asks and John's stomach sends another pang.

<< I don't want you to smoke during a case. We was agreed, Sherlock: never during a case >>.

<< You don't… don't you digest that I smoke during a case? >> asks him amazed. John nods, realizing how stupid the thing he just said is. Sherlock smiles and shakes his head.

<< I think it's better you go to sleep, John. You must be very tired if you get out of it with similar idiocies >> he says, placing his other hand on John's. Sherlock smiles sweetly at him, making his gaze even more attractive. John would like to drag him and kiss him, just like punk did in that alley, and he is sure that the pain he feels in his abdomen would vanish instantly.

"If those desperate people can have you ... why can't I have you too?" he thinks, staring too insistently, he realizes it, those beautiful lips that from the first moment hit his attention.

<< You don't want me to participate in the case and I understand that you are doing it for my sake. But I ask you, please, since the children of a dear friend of ours are involved, to tell me what you found out about the drawing. The few things you and George said this morning are not enough for me >>.

<< I knew you wouldn't give up >> Sherlock chuckles, shaking his hand << Nothing good, unfortunately >> sighs appearing even more tired. << It is such a big thing that I don't even know if it can really be stopped >>.

<< Why can't you stop it? >>.

<< Because when something circulates on the web it expands quickly and even if you weaken it, it creates emulators with impressive speed >> he says, calling his hand back to himself. John lets it go with regret and gets up immediately after him, following him to the living room desk.

<< This >>, Sherlock says, taking the photo of the drawing made by Daisy Cooper in his hand, << is the logo of a portal called Fenix, put online about six months ago >> he says, taking a seat in front of the PC. << As you can see, it looks like a harmless portal in which to exchange ideas and reflections on various issues concerning adolescence. The phoenix is a symbol of death and rebirth and the mind behind this site compares it to this particular period of life. In order to post comments and ask questions, you must register and the registration form is very detailed. You can't fool it. You have to enter correct and truthful data, no nickname. Those on the other side check the veracity of the data and allow access only if they approve the registration >>.

<< We can say goodbye to the privacy >> John says and Sherlock nods.

<< It is not possible to fool him even by entering real boy names, because the server recognizes that the host from which he is writing cannot correspond to the cell of the boy's real home and throws out the intruder >>.

<< Oh my god! >>.

<< No, its exact opposite >> Sherlock points out. << For this we need that Lizzy collaborate with us. So that we can use her access, assuming that they haven't already thrown her out completely, and enter the system to find out by whom it is managed and eradicate it. At least until someone will tries to emulate it. However, I managed to understand how it is structured in broad lines. I looked for suicide reports in which the victim left a drawing as a ticket and I found this data >> he says, by opening a file on the desktop.

<< 54 suicide cases of young people aged 13 to 20 of both sexes linked to this site in Spain. Other cases in France and Germany. It's crazy >> John whispers as he begins to see the exaggerated scope of this portal's action.

<< As I said it's a very big thing. Rosaline Jackson and Daisy Cooper appear to be the first two cases in England, but there may well be others. Not all the details are always taken into consideration when it comes to suicide >>.

<< And Greg's daughter ended up on this hell >> John sighs, placing his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

<< A bad situation, yes >> confirms Sherlock. << As I said this morning, the system is made up of three distinct phases. At the beginning they really only give information and answer users' questions. They are assigned a tutor, who begins to become familiar with the young, gathering more and more confidential information, strengthened by the trust of these desperate people. At that point they make a skim and focus on the most fragile, inviting them to attend free public conferences. Conferences conducted by real experts among which, however, there are unrecommendable characters >>.

<< Oh my God, you won't be talking about pedophiles >>.

<< There's everything in here, John. Pedophiles, exploiters, blackmailers, drug dealers. They lure these kids by promising them a happier life under the sign of the phoenix >>.

<< A sect >>.

<< In a way too. The third phase is the worst and it comes after a very careful selection. Prepared by the promises filled in the second phase, the young are eager to be invited to private seminars, led by people of dubious professionalism who call themselves Masters. They come to quarrel with each other by committing real acts of cyberbullying. The tutors and the Masters instigate cyber bullying, leading the young to real media fights with devaluation and public humor to the detriment of those who want to leave the group or who have spoken to dangerous people for the safety of the portal or who do not satisfy to Master's requests. It is a sort of natural selection. Those who survive pass to the third phase, those who do not hold commit suicide. Suicide is encouraged not only by peers vying to enter the coveted third phase, but also by those who manage the portal >>.

<< What does this third phase consist of >>.

<< In obtaining authorization to lure other young in exchange for a fictitious recognition valid only within the portal. There are super-known teens, famous as Hollywood stars with a lot of power in their hands. Literally the power of life or death over their peers. The last word, of course, belongs to the portal manager, but it seems that it is very easy to convince him >>.

<< How? >>.

<< By sending images ... details, which are immediately placed on the pedopornography market, in the simplest of cases. By making themself available for intimate meetings with people chosen by the Masters, in the worst >>.

<< Incitement to prostitution, suicide and cyberbullying. And all this for a place on the front line in a place that does not exist in all respects >> John is shocked. << And Lizzy ... in which phase she is? >>.

<< Being discovered as the daughter of a Scotland Yard investigator made her banned from the portal. Now she is undergoing cyberbullying. George sent me some screenshots of the messages he found on his sister's computer today. It seems they have put around false rumors and photos, that Lizzy says have been retouched with Photoshop, that portray her in equivocal and undressed attitudes >> Sherlock tells him, passing the cellphone. John reads that wave of free badness to the detriment of a girl who has already experienced a stressful situation and shakes his head disconsolate.

<< Lord. How can someone do this kind of things >>.

<< Guys can be bad, John. I don't know if you had the misfortune of being targeted by bullies at school. I assure you that it is not a good experience >> Sherlock whispers, taking the cell phone, just touching the doctor's hands, eager to keep them to himself.

John would like to ask him many questions about this hint of the past that Sherlock has given him. He, who, perhaps, can say, with embarrassment, that he was more on the side of the bullies than the victims. John never participated in beatings or humiliations against those targeted, but he never did anything to help them either. At least before these things didn't spill over to his sister.

He was always ready to put his hands in front of someone who dared to say something unpleasant about Harriet's lifestyle choices. John gave and took many to defend her. Both from direct actions and from simple insults in her absence. He may say, perhaps, that he experienced bullying for third parties, if this ever exists. John's sister apparently kept up with insults, threats, teasing and even attempts at violence by the macho on duty ready to convert the cursed lesbian. It has been a tough years for John and he can only imagine what someone with Sherlock's character and ways did not experience at school. John perhaps too often forgotten that the brilliant consulting detective was also a boy and a teenager.

<< I'm sorry >> he only manages to whisper. Sherlock looks at him in amazement and barely sketches a bitter smile.

<< It's late, John, go to sleep. Tomorrow you are on duty early >> he says, surprising John once again with remembering his commitments.

<< What will you do? >> asks him, already knowing the answer.

<< I want to beat another track on the web to try to get around the system and enter that damned blog >> he says, rolling his eyes. John chuckles and stands up.

<< Do not melt this beautiful head, ok? >> he says, placing a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. John takes the cup with chamomile and leaves the apartment. Only when he closes his bedroom door behind him does realize what he has done.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

<< It's like a stab, doctor. I feel it strong here and then it radiates from all sides, taking my breath away >>.

The old man explains with difficulty what he feels. The right hand at stomach level is a pained expression in which John finds himself. From the visit, John hypothesizes the presence of a gastric ulcer, which joins the hiatal hernia and Crohn's disease located at the height of the colon.

_"Here you are in twenty years, Johnny, if you continue like this"._ John sighs. He has now stopped replying to the jokes that his mind proposes to him, using his sister's scornful voice and tone.

<< Too many undigested things >> John says, realizing too late that he has spoken out loud. The patient nods and curves himself even more.

<< It is right. If I had given voice to all the things I preferred swallowing, maybe now I would not have been so badly >> the old man says with a whisper.

<< I think there is always time to do it. It is part of the cure: on one side the medicines on the other the pebbles removed from the shoes >>.

<< You are young, doctor, and when I was still your age maybe I could have. Now ... now it would all be useless. I am old and tired and I have to put up with it. I just can't be change. I may even want to and even get away with it in other circumstances. In these conditions, however ... >> shakes his head, leaving his thoughts incomplete.

John feels his stomach ache of the same twinge so well described by the old man in front of him. He should do some tests, but he is already afraid of the response. As it is known, the doctors are the worst patients, so it saves the effort. John knows what he needs. That innocent kiss kept him awake most of the night. He pushed him to sneak into his house like a thief, prepare quickly and run away, despite the fact that his flatmate was not there. Indeed, perhaps for that very reason.

_"Who knows where you went and who you are with now"_ John thinks. His patient's coughing, brings him back to reality. John fill in the recipe quickly, feeling the need to send the old man away.

He hands the recipe to him with a smile, patiently explaining the dosage of the drugs. John accompanies him to the door, but the old man stops on his feet and looks at him seriously. He must have been a handsome man as a boy. Those eyes of a now opaque blue are intense, penetrating and capable of awe, now that the old man has assumed this almost martial posture.

<< I recognize that look, doctor. I know I should do my own business, but I'm old enough to give a damn and you is still young to be able to save yourself. Anger. This is what kills us, by making us burn. Let it go. There is no use keeping it here >> he says, pointing the gnarled finger towards John's belly. << Try to look at what this covers. Because we men cover everything with anger. Often a deep sadness or a great fear. Sometimes even a great love >> the old man says and John's stomach contracts. << Sorry if I allowed myself, but I see a lot of me in you and if I can do little for me, by now, well ... maybe I'll be less of a useless old man if I can do something for you >>.

The man's heartfelt words are like a contracted stomach balm, which relaxes a little wrapped in an intoxicating heat.

_"If dad ever talked to us like that ... how many things would be different today, Johnny?"_ John hugs this man. He makes this unusual gesture moved more by a personal need than by a tacit request from the patient. The old man is amazed, but accepts what is also a gift for him. Embarrassed, he pats John's shoulder.

<< Thank you >> John whispers before letting him go.

<< Thank you too >> replies the man, absent-mindedly drying his shiny eyes.

<< Take care of you and for whatever you need, you knows where to find me >>.

The man leaves the room at the same time as the cell phone notifies John of the arrival of a message. John remains motionless, as if he had heard the click from a weapon aimed at him. John approaches the phone uncertainly and looks at it for a long time before picking it up. A message from Sherlock and the stomach contracts.

_"Don't tell me that now you won't be able to look at him in the face for that stupid kiss?"_

John cast out Harriet's idiocy and he read the short text.

Baker Street. Come if you can. If you can't, it comes the same. I need you. SH

One of Sherlock's usual texts, one might say. John, however, remains stunned about those last three words. These words have the power to ease the tensions that claw John's viscera. John quickly takes off his coat and runs away. Sara just gives him a nod, now resigned to seeing him run away in mid-shift, and John certainly isn't wasting time with useless explanations. He runs towards the tube and, thanks to a series of coincidences, he arrives in record time at home.

<< You come here in a hurry >> Sherlock welcomes him, sitting at his armchair. In the center of the room there are Greg and George, one confused, the other nervous and embarrassed.

<< What's going on? >> John breathless question, approaching the two standing.

<< That's what I'm wondering too, John >> says Greg, hands on hips as he shifts the weight from one foot to the other. << Sherlock and I spent the morning analysing all the suicide cases that have occurred in England in the past six months. In 31 of these we found the drawing of the Phoenix >>.

<< 31? >> John asks in amazement. << How come this coincidence was not noticed? >>.

<< Because we don't have his eyes, John >> says Greg, pointing Sherlock. << In these last two cases the drawing was clearly visible. One even engraved on the skin. In the others, however, it did not immediately catch the eye >>.

John is distraught by Sherlock's silence. He expected that Sherlock says one of his tipical judgment about the Yards' agents almost with theatrical timing, but nothing. Sherlock looks at him and shakes his head. So John realizes that Sherlock hasn't told Greg yet about the Fenix and all that story.

<< Then Sherlock returned here >>, Greg continues, << and after a while he calls me asking me to join him and who do I find with him? >> he says, turning to his son with an expression between the angry and the worried. << When will you two decide to tell me what is happening? >> asks the detective and Sherlock turns his gaze to John again. He wants that John inform Greg. John, who is much more prepared to give bad news. If had it been anyone else, Sherlock would have briefed him

without problems, but this is Greg this time.

John nods and prepares himself, by taking a deep breath. He speaks slowly, clearly pronouncing the words, as he had learn during the specialization and as he has done so many times in the presence of grieved relatives and heartfelt comrades. While explaining what Sherlock showed him the night before and what George told them that morning, he never looks away from the faces of Greg and George, ready to immediately intervene in case of malaise or a nervous breakdown.

The detective pales more and more as the story goes on. His eyes become large with amazement and he often shakes his head in disbelief, glancing at his son. When John finishes his piece, Greg brings both hands to cover his face and holds them there for a long moment, breathing slowly.

John turns his gaze to Sherlock, who has assisted from his armchair while remaining perfectly still. He nods with a smile and the doctor realizes that he has done his job well.

<< Dad ... I ... sorry if I didn't come to you, but ... you always talk to me so well about him and ... and I didn't want to worry you >>. George trembles slightly. He barely holds back tears, keeping his eyes down. When Greg turns to him, George barely looks at him, unable to bear his gaze. The detective smiles as he puts his hand on his son's shoulder.

<< You took care of your sister. You did what I should have done. Thank you, George >> he says, bringing his hand to George's hairless cheek, caressing it with the fear of almost breaking him.

George's face squeezes like a sponge and in an instant flies to Greg's chest, hugging him tightly while giving vent to tears. Greg supports him, cradles him with the same sweetness with which he held him in his arms just a few years ago. In the nights of fever and ailments. In moments of fear and nightmares. Following quarrels and tantrums. But even when he simply fell asleep peacefully feeling safe and protected in the strong arms of his dad.

<< Is Lizzy safe, Sherlock? >> Greg asks him, his voice broken by emotion.

<< She's coming soon >> replies the consultant. The expressionless face is slightly paler than usual. John sits down in his chair, trying to cheer Sherlock up with his closeness. Intimately he feels the need, in turn, to cheer himself up by having him close, because that beautiful scene of unconditional love has strained his internal balance already quite shaken in the last few days.

<< Lizzy doesn't expect to find us here? >> asks Greg.

<< No >> Sherlock replies.

<< She will be angry >> says George still standing in his father's embrace and not intent on leaving.

<< Well ... we are four, I think we will capable to manage the anger of a single woman, right? >> says Sherlock and the others look at him in amazement.

<< Have you never dealt with a furious woman, Sherlock? >> John asks him. The consultant thinks about it for a few moments. More than once he seems to be about to respond and then falls again into reflective silence.

<< Actually not. At least not directly. I have heard many times your countless ex yelling at you >>.

<< Most of the time just because of you >> retorts John, making the two Lestrade laugh.

<< Bah, these women are really strange. I wonder what you find in them! >> Sherlock blurts out with a very equivocal and completely unusual flourish of his hand, which embarrasses the other three.

Sherlock receives a message and at the same time the bell rings.

<< Here she comes. I sure hope she didn't get your wife's temperament, Giles. Even if I can't say how much better is yours >> says Sherlock, making the detective snort.

<< His name is Greg >> says George, pointing to the father.

<< Forget it, George. It is wasted effort! >> Greg says.

There is a knock on the door and John gets up to go and welcome the third Lestrade. He finds himself in the presence of a young woman with a sad expression, covered by long straight hair dyed black.

These, like a curtain, just leave a window open to show the heavily make-up eyes with a thick layer of dark pencil and rimmel, the face made even more pale by the face powder and the mouth colored by a black lipstick. A necklace obtained from a strip of leather cut in several points wraps her neck falling softly on the perfect small breast, tightened by a black bodice with burgundy inserts. A soft skirt surrounds her thin waist by falling irregularly in the middle of the toned thighs covered by tights torn in several places. Now John understands why Sherlock hired a punk to stay behind the girl.

<< Is Mr. Holmes there? >> Lizzy whispers, brushing aside only half of the blanket of hair with her small hand with black lacquered nails. The many bracelets on his wrist jingle first going down to the elbow, then falling back to the wrist when she puts her hand back on her hip.

John invites Lizzy to enter and she makes the soles of the heavy amphibians resonate by moving just two steps beyond the threshold and then stopping. Finding her father and brother standing there in the center of the room has the effect of immediately snapping her up, like a cat hit by a few drops of water.

<< You said that you would keep the secret! >> Lizzy yells, pointing at her brother, who leaps towards like a spring.

<< I did it until I was afraid you committed another stupid thing! >>.

<< Shut up! >> shouts the girl, trying to pounce on her brother. Greg springs and, with a speed proven by years of experience, tackles one and enters defense of the other. John and Sherlock look at him in admiration.

<< Now let's calm down everyone, ok? >> Greg thunders and although they are still shaken, both boys nod dumbfounded. Greg takes the chair reserved for customers and John brings into the living room the two chairs of the kitchen table . The three Lestrade sit one on the right, the other on the left and the father in the center.

<< Why did you come here, Lizzy? >> Greg asks her.

<< Peter advised me to come and talk to him >> she says, pointing to Sherlock. << Peter told me he knows him >>.

<< Who is Peter? >> Greg asks with a frown. He turns his gaze to Sherlock, who nods, giving him to understand that everything is in order and the detective catches the message.

<< Yes, I know him >> confirms Sherlock and the girl seems to reassure herself.

<< Why did he tell you to come here? >> Greg asks her. Lizzy rubs the toes of her heavy amphibians against each other, her face completely hidden by her hair. It seems that the chair she sits on has suddenly become uncomfortable.

<< Sherlock told me about the Fenix portal and I know you got involved. What's going on, babe >> whispers Greg just moving her hair away from her face. The girl turns her big big eyes on him and bites her dark lips. The brother nods, encouraging her.

<< Daisy Cooper was in the last year in my school. It is from her that I heard about the Fenix portal. She was talking about it to friends in the bathroom at school. I stayed to listen and that same evening I enrolled. At the beginning it was nice, but now ... now it's hell >> tears come down to paint black lines on her cheeks.

<< A ... hell? >> Greg asks her. Lizzy nods wiping her tears with her hand.

<< Mark told me that he double-checked the test he did to me at the beginning and found out it was wrong. I don't have the necessary requirements to stay in the group >>.

<< Did they take you a test? >> John asks, offering her some tissues.

<< Yes. To register I had to answer a long series of questions and pass a selection. They said it was for privacy reasons >>.

<< How not! >> George blurts, crossing his arms over his chest.

<< Who is Mark? One of the portal managers? >> Greg asks. The girl shakes her head.

<< No, he's my tutor >> she says and the crying makes it difficult for her to continue the story.

<< This tutor is not an adult, nor a psychologist or a similar professional >> Sherlock continues in Lizzy place. << Fenix hides behind the facade of wanting to teach young the importance of self-help. After a first period of listening and having invited them to public seminars, this tutor tells the new member that they has the requisites to be able to become tutors in turn and help other peers in difficulty. He deceives them with promises of success and social recognition and starts inviting them to private events held by adults who say they are professionals. Only after other tests and further selection do they get the degree of tutor and start the race to get more and more new members. It is the task of the tutors to make the site and its benefits known and it is always their task to eliminate those who leave the portal rules. That's what's happening to you, isn't Lizzy so? >>

The girl nods in amazement. She blinks on his eyes full of makeup, incredulous in front of the perfect analysis made by the consultant.

<< I ... I don't know which rule I may have violated. I do not understand. I was so happy that they had invited me to a private seminar >> whispers, wiping new tears. << Daisy Cooper, however, when she saw me there she didn't take it well. She asked me what I was doing and then I saw that she was talking about me to one of the Masters >>.

<< Master? >> Greg asks.

<< One of the 'professionals' who holds the seminars. That's the way they call themselves >> replies Sherlock.

<< Yes, exactly. When I got home I received a message from Mark telling me that I couldn't go on >>.

<< And from that moment on they started bullying you >> says Sherlock to Lizzy, again surprised by his intuitions. Greg makes the consultant's astonished gaze travel to his daughter, while George shakes his disconsolate head.

<< Are you being bullied? Lord, I understood that something was wrong, but I didn't think that... >> says Greg, passing his hand through his hair. At that gesture of nervousness, the daughter hides her face even more behind the blanket of hair, making herself small.

<< Her ‘friends’ have started giving her over >> says George in disgust. << They accuse her of wanting to sabotage the organization, of being a spy for the system and that she should be ashamed of having tried to damage a portal that does everything to help young people in difficulty. They put some photos on the net… embarrassing >> he says, blushing. << They even advised her to commit suicide >>.

<< How do you know all these things? >> the sister shouts, shooting at the tip of the chair, her hands clinging to the seat.

<< Because I kept an eye on you, Lizzy! You promised me that you would go to the school psychologist, that you would ask help >> the brother shouts back, his voice broken by emotion.

<< That's what I tried to do >> screams desperately. << I really thought they could help me and for a while it was really like that >>.

<< Those are just helping you kill yourself! The last time was not enough ... >>.

<< Shut up! >> the girl screams, jumping to her feet.

<< Stop, the two of you! >> Greg shouts, getting up in turn. << If you shout we won't get anywhere >> he says to Lizzy, trying to keep calm. The girl returns to her seat, however, glaring at her brother, who supports her attack, undaunted.

<< Your brother is right >> says Sherlock, capturing the attention of the three Lestrade. << That's their purpose, Lizzy. They want to

push yourself to suicide. They do it with all those deemed dangerous for the real purposes of the portal >>.

<< Dangerous? >> the girl whispers. << Why would I be dangerous? >> incredulous question.

<< Because they discovered that you are the daughter of the best Scotland Yard's detective currently in charge >> Sherlock replies. Greg and Lizzy look at him in amazement.

<< I knew it was for that! >> George proudly exclaims and Sherlock nods satisfied with him.

<< I ... I do not understand why they should throw me out for my father's job. It is a self-help portal >>.

<< But haven't you understood yet that those people are brainwashing those who sign up? >> George says, incredulous of his sister's naivety. << Mr. Holmes, please, tell her what you found out >>.

<< Are you investigating the Fenix? >> the girl is amazed.

<< I was called to deal with Rosaline Jackson's suicide case and the investigation led me to Felix and I found out what this really is >> Sherlock replies that tells the girl the background mentioned by her brother. Lizzy looks at him with the same astonished expression of her father and at regular intervals she shakes her head in disbelief at the things she is hearing.

<< Oh God >> she whispers, bringing both hands to his mouth. << I came out indirectly thanks to your work, Dad >> she says, placing her hand on her father's knee.

<< I can't wait to let Mommy know. Maybe she will stop saying that your job is of no use to anyone except you >> adds George, slapping Greg on the shoulder.

Greg looks incredulously at the smug smiles of his children. He brings his hands to their faces that he always caresses with that fear of breaking or damaging them.

<< My kids >> he smiles at them. << I know that in the last period the situation has been nothing short of disastrous. I want you to know, however, that I will always there for you, even if mom and I are no longer together. Lizzy, we'll put an end to this bad situation, I promise you. You, please, promise me that you will tell me about anything that happens to you, especially those in which you need help >>.

<< I did not want you to suffer because of me >> sobs the girl, sinking her face in his hand that gently caresses her. The dark hand of Greg against the pale make-up skin of his daughter creates a marked contrast.

<< I have no reason to suffer because you haven't done anything wrong >>.

<< Just because Peter arrived on time >> she confesses, by squinting her eyes. Greg is short of breath at the thought of that escaping danger. He turns his gaze to Sherlock in a silent thanksgiving that the consultant welcomes by barely tilting his head. << All those messages ... all that badness ... those rigged photos that put around saying it was me ... I was about to collapse >>.

George shivers and Greg renews the caress on his hairless cheek.

<< When I met Peter I was in the library. I looked down from the fourth floor balcony. I've always liked that place and nobody was there. I thought jumping over there wouldn't be bad. Like jump from a high diving board into the pool, I did it a thousand times. It wouldn't have ended the same way, but they are… details >> she minimizes, by sketching a smile.

<< Details that your father can handle >> John intrudes, to whom the sudden way in which Greg's face has lost all color has not escaped. John's stomach sends back a strong stab and must suppress a groan. Sherlock gives him a worried look.

<< I can imagine why you worried >> John continue. << Your father has tried a lot in the last period, but he is always Gregory Lestrade, the cornerstone of Scotland Yard. He deserves to know how his children are and you deserve to be able to tell him what is beautiful and also what is less beautiful you find yourself living >>.

<< Yes, but of his suffering ... who takes care of it? >> asks Lizzy, crying silently.

<< Me >> Sherlock says, taking everyone by surprise. << If he is not in shape or, worse, if he were to be transferred due to negligence, I would lose the opportunity to participate in the investigations, which would be annoying to say the least! >>.

<< This is not a nice thing to say >> Lizzy replies, taking the defensive.

<< Honey, I assure you that it is the best compliment I could receive from him >> Greg reassures her. The smile that the detective gives to the consultant is so beautiful as to lead the latter to look away embarrassed. John realizes how important they are to each other and strangely his stomach is not pierced by any painful twinge. Indeed, he looks at them, moved and pleased. These two men so distant, but united by the love for the work they do. The constant struggle to try to bring the truth to the fore and make sure that justice is done is the quality that John lacks. John is used to obeying orders. To act even before thinking, both as a soldier and as a doctor. John realizes he has so much to learn from these men that he has the honor of being able to define friends. At least Greg for sure. As for Sherlock ...

<< In your opinion, Lizzy, why did Daisy and Rosaline commit suicide? They looked like two senior tutors, as you described them >> asks Sherlock to the girl, diverting John from his thoughts.

<< I ... I don't know. The news of their suicides surprised me too. The private seminar was held at Rosaline's home, who took advantage of the absence of her parents to make her home available. The Master was very kind to her and covered her with attentions ... too many attentions, in my opinion >>.

<< Was the master an adult? >> John asks.

<< Yes, a man in his fifties >>.

<< Damn bastards! Take advantage of the kids >> growls Greg.

<< A friend told me that Daisy couldn't stand Rosaline. In fact, with the excuse of being the master's pupil, she was doing enough >>.

<< To attract his attention, Cooper told him who was your father and the master must have spent a bad quarter of an hour, fearing to see the whole Scotland Yard swoop into the apartment. He must not have liked it and decided to punish the girls. The master will have used the tactics of cyberbullying and instigation to commit suicide, to punish the girls for endangering the organization >>.

<< Oh Lord! Then it was my fault? >> Lizzy asks, the eyes already full of tears. John and Greg glare at the consultant, who realizes too late that he has perhaps spoken too directly.

<< You have no fault, Lizzy. The faults are of those men and women who have set up all this mess >> John try to remedy.

<< Could you recognize these people? >> Greg asks, lightly caressing her hair

<< Yes. I also had some photos taken at the meetings, but a few days after they threw me out they stole my phone >>.

<< Oh, your brother thought about recovering them >> says Sherlock, continuing to send and read messages from his cell phone. Lizzy looks amazed at her brother, who smiles contemptuous of the danger. She doesn't yell at him this time. Lizzy shakes her head in resignation before smiling at him.

<< They were also very useful >> adds Sherlock.

<< Really? >> Greg asks, amazed. << Sherlock ... are you sure you don't have to update me on the investigations you are conducting? >> Greg asks him, by crossing his arms over his chest.

<< In fact, the time has come to do it >> Sherlock says, standing up. << But I will let him to inform you >> says, smiling in the direction of his room. John follows his gaze and gets up abruptly when he sees an unknown man standing a few steps from the kitchen.

<< Fox? What are you doing here? >> Greg asks him too jumped up.

<< Do you know him? >> John asks incredulously.

<< We don't have much time and I would like to postpone the presentations, if you don't mind! >> says the man, gently but firmly. << We have identified where the Masters of the seminars that were held here in London are >> he says, placing himself between John's armchair and the chair on which Lizzy is sitting. The girl looks at him as if she was hypnotized << Greg, I recommend you to send a patrol at these addresses >> he says, giving him a ticket. << The charges are of solicitation, corruption of a minor, exchange of pedopornography, incitement to pedoprostitution, prostitution and suicide >>.

<< There are so many things to throw them in jail for life >> Greg nods. << You know well, however, that I will have to report and do not want to hear about exclusive journalism and similar bullshit, Fox >>.

<< My colleagues and I are working to make the truth surface, detective. We do not hinder justice, on the contrary. When possible we help you >> replies the man, smiling cordially.

<< Do you have news from Sky on the portal? >> Sherlock asks. The man brings his hand to his right ear and lets out a curse in Spanish .

<< Sorry, Billy, but we will have to ask for the help of the English Government >>.

<< I was hoping to save it >>.

<< Me too. Unfortunately, that portal is impregnable and in order to get to who is behind all this mess, Sky needs more power >>.

<< Okay. Greg, coordinate the operations and join us as soon as possible at the Diogenes Club >>.

<< We would also need your help to convince the British government to collaborate >> adds Fox, exchanging a knowing look with Sherlock. He smiles at him. The same smile that John had seen him dedicate to the guitarist. John look carefully at this tall man with pale skin, as that of the consultant but sprayed with ephelids, and curly hair red as a living flame. His green eyes meet John's and in turn he watches him attentively. John feels his stomach shut. This man is attractive and apparently kind and affable, but he feels a profound dislike for him. Somehow, as far as he is aware, he replaced it alongside Sherlock in the investigation.

<< Would the… British Government be Mycroft? >> Greg asks and Fox turns to him to nod. The detective laughs loudly. << Explain to me how you think I can help you convince his brother to do something? >>.

Sherlock glances at the man and John realizes that they are communicating without opening their mouths. A series of small nods and expressions just mentioned, those that never escape the insightful sight of the consultant and apparently also that of Fox.

<< 'Do ut des'[1], Lestrade. It is possible that seeing me involved in the investigations, together with the team I am part of, Mycroft does not want to know to come to our aid. On your side, however, he has an open account that he has not paid up to now and I think it's time to do it. He can permanently remove what is circulating about your daughter, save her reputation, in a way, and help you save someone you care about. Just like you did in his time and still do for him >>.

<< You thought them all, huh? >> Greg nods in admiration.

<< As always, Greg >> smiles the man, thanking him, bowing his head slightly.

<< Then it's better that I go. I want to bring those bastards inside as soon as possible >>.

<< Can I come with you? >> George asks him.

<< Not at all! >> Greg answers decisively. << Bring your sister back to your mother's house and do your homework >>.

<< Lizzy can take home herself alone! >> George replies, planting his hands on his hips. << Come on, dad, I also took part in the investigation! Had I not copied the photos of those bastards, Sherlock and… this man >>, he says, indicating uncertain Fox, << they would not have been able to locate them >>.

<< He is not wrong >> Sherlock supports him.

<< But I fear that glory will have to be limited to this >> Fox adds, giving Sherlock a sever look. A look very similar to the ones John used to shoot, the doctor notes and his stomach aches again. Sherlock snorts, and they seem to speak again without saying a word.

<< I agree with you, Fox >> says Greg peremptorily. << You have been exceptional, but it can become dangerous and I don't want to worry about you, ok? >>. George snorts, but nods, agreeing to return to his mother in the company of his sister.

<< Oh my! You ... you are Peter >> exclaims the girl, pointing to Fox with a voice so high as to startle everyone ... except the person concerned. Fox smiles at her and nods without taking his eyes off her stunned gaze.

<< Worthy father's daughter >> he says, making her blush. << I'm sorry to have lied to you, but if I hadn't acted incognito you wouldn't have trusted me and I couldn't risk you deciding to make that bad jump. Do you think you can forgive me? >> he asks her with a soft voice and a bewitching look. The girl blushes even more, sketches a smile and nods looking away.

John doesn't believe what he's just heard. Would this man be the same guy he saw in the alley with Sherlock? He was certainly dressed in black, as he is now, but the one he is now wearing is reminiscent of the uniform of one of the army special bodies, one of those sent to perform missions that are not entirely lawful. A red logo stands out on Fox's left shoulder: the stylized muzzle of a fox wrapped in a flame-like tail. John rolls his eyes and lets out a snort. It is the same logo that he saw on the body of the guitar played by the boy he found at home with Sherlock. John turns his gaze to his flatmate, who was keeping an eye on him from before. Sherlock's lips are curl up to shape a smile and he nods at his silent question.

The doctor does not know whether to feel relieved unless he found out that the two boys with whom he caught his flatmate correspond to the same person. A person who seems to know Sherlock well anyway. Even too well. A pang hits John again in the stomach.

<< Guys, come on, get out of here. Go home and do your homework! >> order to them Greg, pointing the door. The two young Lestrade abandon the 221B one still red, the other crawling their feet. When he hears them go down the steps, Greg approaches Fox.

<< Try once again to do one of your games as a seducer with my daughter and I will forget that you saved her, did you understand Fox? >> he says, hitting him on his chest with the accusing finger.

<< Of course, Greg >> he nods without getting confused in front of his anger. << Even if my intent was certainly not to seduce your daughter >> he adds.

<< I don't give a damn, Fox. She is a young girl and she takes a moment to be enchanted by one of your smiles. And I takes me two to destroy you, even if you only do it for work. Lord, what do I have to say! >> he adds, rolling his eyes. << You, Sherlock, other quiet friends like John don't, huh? >> he says to Sherlock, giving him a sever look.

<< I didn't know that Captain Watson was a quiet person >> Fox replies, looking at John seriously. He absently takes his left hand to grab his right wrist and John quickly understands the reason for the discussion between Sherlock and the punk in the alley. The consultant mentions a gesture of refusal with his head to Fox, which, in response, look at John even more hard.

"You got into a lot of trouble, Johnny!" Harriet tells him in his head and John feels all the embarrassment of the world collapsing on his shoulders.

<< Quiet and balanced much more than the two of you >> retorts Greg, approaching the door. << I think it will be more useful than I am at the Diogenes Club >>.

<< I won't go to the club, Greg >> John warns him.

<< Why? >> asks him, amazed.

<< I am ... relieved of this case >> he sighs, despising to seem a victim of circumstances. Greg rolls his eyes. He turns his back on the door and plantes his hands on his hips, giving Sherlock a look of reproach very similar to that dedicated to his children to quell their quarrel.

<< How the hell did you come up with the idea of 'relieving John from case'? >> Greg, yell.

<< He was too involved >> Sherlock replies souring, as he usually does when he feels uncomfortable.

<< Too involved? >> the detective replies loudly. << Haven't you understood yet that without him you lose your compass? >>.

John feels he has blushed and is mortally embarrassed.

<< Well, come on, somehow he will have done before getting to know me >> John coughs. Greg looks at him with big eyes and shakes his disconsolate head.

<< Let me put the assholes who tried to push my daughter to suicide into jail and then I'll tell you some anecdote. Maybe you will understand many things and maybe you will stop beating yourself! >> exclaims Greg. << Shame on you, Sherlock! >> points the finger against Sherlock. << You don't put a friend aside just because another comes from the past >>.

<< I did absolutely nothing like this >> retorts Sherlock angrily.

<< I can also give you the benefit of the doubt, but this is what seems to be happening >> Greg looks at Fox annoyed. << John, I will allow you to participate in the investigation. I expect to find you in front of Mycroft. I have no desire to deal with that other phenomenon alone! >> Greg exclaims and descends the steps leaving the 221B.

<< Very well. and I haven't met your brother yet >> Fox exclaims, running his hand through the curls. Then he brings it to her ear and mutters a curse. << It is better that we go, Billy. Every moment is precious. Move to join the Diogenes Club if you don't want to risk becoming an only child >> he says, heading towards Sherlock's room.

<< Where he is going? >> John asks.

<< He leaves the house through window of my room, the same one from which he entered >> Sherlock replies casually. John looks at him with a big eyes. << It is the only way to evade the surveillance cameras controlled by my brother >> Sherlock says, indicating, with a gesture of the head, the window behind them.

<< I understand >> John mumbles. << No, wait, it's not true! I do not understand a shit, however! >> he shout, clapping his hands on the back of his armchair. << What the fuck is going on, Sherlock? Who the hell is that man and why did he call you 'Billy'? >>.

<< It's a long story >> sighs Sherlock. << And we don't have much time >>.

<< Don't think you can handle it like this >> John points him with his finger. << At the end of the investigation I want to be made aware of everything, Sherlock, have I been clear? >>.

<< Transparent >>.

<< It will be better! Although the idea of knowing you became an only child entices me enough, I think it is appropriate to join him at the Diogenes Club. Let's go! >> orders and, docile as a dog, Sherlock follows him.

[1] ‘I give for you to give’ from Latin


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

<< So you would like me to help the hacker of a group of investigative journalists, known for their action on the limits of legality? >>.

Mycroft observes the four men sitting beyond the precious oak wood desk of his study at the Diogenes Club with a skeptical and arrogant smile.

<< It's for a good cause, Mycroft >> John replies, annoyed by his tone. << That portal has already led too many young to commit suicide >>.

<< I'm glad to see you again, Dr. Watson. I thought this time you had decided not to take part in the investigation >> Mycroft teases John, focusing his eyes clearly on Fox.

<< I authorized him to help us >> says Greg with perhaps a little too much emphasis. He doesn't like Mycroft's seraphic and feignedly friendly being. << Mycroft, I ask you to allow Fox and his team to try to destroy that portal. It is not enough for me to have brought in prison those who risked pushing my daughter to commit suicide. I want to prevent those who created that abomination from reaping other innocent victims >>.

Mycroft studies him with a serious face and Greg supports his gaze, resolute.

<< We wouldn't have bothered to come here if we hadn't already tried everything to force that damned portal >> says Sherlock, trying to make his brother understand how serious the situation is. Mycroft takes a look at him, then returns to look at Greg. John does not understand what can go for the genius mind of the older brother of his flatmate. If Sherlock seems incomprehensible to him, Mycroft is a real enigma for him.

<< It is not easy to understand the human soul. Trying to understand what a teenager lives is almost impossible. They become easy preys of evil intentions and ... chemical solutions to the pain of living >> Mycroft says, taking a look at his brother.

A strange atmosphere has arisen. John feels it on his skin, like a kind of warm and protective hug. As absurd as it may seem, it all seems to be born from the change of Mycroft, imperceptible to the naked eye but felt by the belly and skin.

<< Unfortunately, I know very well what led my daugther to end up on that portal >> admits Greg, letting his hands slide from his face to his hair. << I tried to talk to her mother about it. To tell her that something was bringing our daughter down. And we both knew what it was. She said that I was the usual exaggerated and that Lizzy was just going through a normal moment of crisis >> Greg chuckles nervously, shaking his head.

<< It is not easy to admit one's faults, to recognize that you are the cause of the malaise of loved ones >> whispers Mycroft in a heartfelt way.

<< I don't know who the fault is anymore, Mycroft. I only see what is happening. Lizzy is desperate enough to think about ending her life and George fought for her, taking the place that should be mine. That's no good. It is not at all good >> Greg sighs and collapses a little more under the weight of his sorrows.

<< Your kids just wanted to protect you, Greg >>.

<< It is me who must protect them, John! >> the detective replies decisively, looking at his friend with eyes swollen with tears. << Although it is more complicated now, this does not mean that it is impossible >>.

<< I know, Greg. We all know it >> John continues, pointing at himself and the Holmes with a gesture of the hand. << But you were a boy too and you know how difficult it was to talk to your parents. Especially when you saw them already tried and shaken >>.

Greg seems to calm down at those words. He puts his hands on his neck and sigh deeply.

<< Lestrade, allow me to make an observation >> says Mycroft, catalyzing the attention of those present. << I think that you are proving to be a good father or better, to say it as the literature of the sector wants, a sufficiently good father >>.

Greg rolls his eyes and doesn't know if Mycroft Holmes want to do a compliment or a mockery to him. He decides to wait for the rest before figuring out whether to thank him or get his hands on him.

<< Your children defend you, and a parent defended so heartily can only be a good parent. Not only. Your children want to protect you. They acknowledge that you have been able to endure so much and that you are tired. As Dr. Watson said, however, they are young and still inclined to take upon themselves faults and responsibilities that do not belong to them. This also shows how well you have educated them to respect and a sense of duty. I therefore believe that you are blaming yourself that for a blame that isn't yours. I think you have already received too many, absurd blame and that therefore you can exempt yourself from doing the same. My brother >>, Mycroft says, pointing at Sherlock, strangely silent and too still, << acted in an attempt to save the salvable and do justice to everyone. Fulfill the desire of your children to keep you out of further worries and resolve a situation, which turned out to be too complex without the right means, trying not to cause you trouble but only bring you good news. It is not the first time that I tell you how I think Sherlock consider you an older brother much better than me >> Mycroft says, taking a look at Sherlock who just shifts his gaze to his feet. << And it is not even the first time that I thank you for what you have done for him in the past and for what you are still doing. So allow me to do you the favor: you saved my brother, let me do everything I can to resolve the unpleasant situation in which your daughter found herself stuck >>.

John is amazed and sees his own amazement reflected in Greg's proven face. It is not only for the long monologue held by the English government, but for the many awards in favor of the detective. The sentence with which Mycroft closed his sermon, then, will also be put there to get the right effect, but summarizes many things. Things that John does not know, some that he may have guessed and others that perhaps will remain unexplained .

<< Ours is a mutual exchange of needs >> Greg replies, turning his gaze to Sherlock who reciprocates him. << Sherlock needs unusual cases and trust and I need help to solve them. I allow him not to have to resort to ... external chemical agents to eradicate boredom; Sherlock avoide to make my liver rotten not knowing where to go banging his head to get out of certain situations. We save each other's ass, in short >> chuckles and Sherlock smiles in turn.

John only now realizes the deep affection and mutual respect that exists between the detective and the consultant. Although Sherlock constantly gives Greg an idiot, by never guessing his name, and Greg questions Sherlock's deductions, by screaming at him against the worst things, their balance is perfect.

<< Do you and your colleagues have a plan, Mr. Fox? >> polite question Mycroft, bringing attention back to the man and the speech on the portal.

<< Of course, Mr. Holmes >> answer Fox, with the same fake and licked courtesy. << We have been working on this case for four months. We stumbled upon the Fenix portal while doing research on cyber bullying and online soliciting against young and kids people. We have repeatedly tried to introduce ourselves into the system with fictitious profiles, but whoever created that portal is a good professionist. Very good. To the point of recognizing us as intruders and throwing us out. It is the first time that we are faced with such an impregnable system and being able to take advantage of the collaboration of a girl directly involved would be an excellent turning point in the investigation. We will have to operate from the girl's pc and from the place where she is used to using it. We will act remotely, my colleague, Sky, is currently in Berlin, where we found another cell of the so-called Masters of this portal >> says Fox. << If you, Mycroft, will have the kindness to provide me with passwords, we will connect to the main frame of the secret services that will allow Sky a greater range of action, saving us the effort and time to force the system and all the problems that ensue >> Fox adds with a bewitching smile just bowing his head.

<< Mycroft, I believe that the situation is so delicate as to be lucky to have good professionals ready to collaborate with us >> says Sherlock, who is certainly not lavish with compliments towards others who are not himself.

<< The trust you place in this group of investigative journalists is admirable. I must admit that although I do not approve of your methods, I recognize you are capable of carrying out excellent investigations, to the point that I could propose to hire you. Too bad that I, unlike my brother, don't trust journalists. "Nunca confìes en un periodista[1]!" that's what your boss always says, isn't he? >>.

<< I guarantee for him, Mycroft >> says Sherlock frowning.

<< How should this reassure me? >>.

<< I know their methods better than you, I collaborated with them for a year in Madrid >> Sherlock says and John is amazed at his words. Sherlock, so attached to his London to the point of abandoning it only if it is necessary for small and short periods, has been away a whole year in Spain with Fox and his colleagues.

<< You mean that ... >> John says, pointing at Fox. << Are you part of the team of investigative journalists of 'El Mundo'? >> asks in amazement. Sherlock nods and Fox barely smiles at John.

The doctor admire the work of that group of journalists, who are completely out of the rules, but capable of bringing uncomfortable and gruesome truths to the fore. Skilled transformers, capable of disguising themselves by completely changing their physiognomy and physicality to act incognito and carry out their investigations. Now John understands many of the events that have happened in the past few days.

<< Mr. Fox >> resumes Mycroft. << It is useless for me to tell you that I do not approve in the least the methods that you, your boss and your colleagues are used to implementing. However, I think this situation is absolutely exceptional and only and exclusively for this reason will I allow you and that cybercriminal of your colleague to access the government main frame. I want it to be clear that, when the case is closed, all the passwords will be changed and any attempt to force it on your part will be prosecuted, at the risk of compromising the diplomatic agreements that we have had with your government for years >>.

<< It was quite exhaustive, Mr. Holmes. I too would have preferred never to have the pleasure of meeting you >> Fox replies and John cannot help but admire the tough face of this man, whom he knows very little about.

<< Yes, I know that I am not your favorite Holmes and I do not mind at all >> Mycroft says disgusted. << Lestrade, I think it's appropriate that I also come from your ex-wife. She will see my brother, of which he already has a bad reputation, fall into her house, together with another individual of dubious morality >> Mycroft says, giving Fox a look. The man thanks him with a nod. << I think that my presence, combined with what I represent, can be useful to avoid clashes and further decanting of bile >>.

<< Why? Do you think you can be immune? >> Greg asks. << No, because if you really are, tell me where you got vaccinated that I run to do it >> adds ironic. Mycroft smiles and seems pleased with Greg's jokes than annoyed, as John usually sees him in front of the manifestation of human idiocy.

<< Immunity is given to me by the simple fact that whatever that woman can say or do ... simply does not exist for me. Who does not exist cannot harm me >>.

<< It is better that I reminde this >> says George, giving a sincere smile to the major of the Holmes. John has the strange feeling of having just witnessed an unlikely flirtation.

[1] Never trust a journalist


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Margaret holds her arms tight against her chest. She give angry looks at her ex-husband at regular intervals. She pays little attention to the man in elegant suit that is talking to her. Margaret attention is all directed to the red hairs man, who, together with the consulting detective much praised by her ex, have taken possession of her daughter's room.

John sees her swell more and more with anger, that she hold with increasing strength. Margaret will explode, John is sure of it, and it will be terrible. On Greg's tense face, standing a meter away from her, in the exact same position, John reads his own fear. The doctor looks at them and wonders how two people who have loved eachother and promised eachother 'eternal love' and who have brought two children into the world, now they have come to be unable to stay in the same room without risking sparks.

"Evidently because love is not the eternal thing that is said to be, Johnny" replies Harriet in his head.

<< Yeah >> he whispers. For the first time he is agree with his sister.

John's gaze flies to Sherlock, who standing next to Fox, sitting in front of Lizzy's laptop. The tense face, the attentive gaze, the hands folded behind the back in that pose of apparent and peaceful expectation.

Sherlock's eyes are the thing that struck John first. Not so much for the particular color and the feline shape, as for the feeling that they are capable of giving to be scanned body and soul.

Immediately afterwards, John noticed Sherlock's lips, immobile in his expressionless face, but capable of moving fast at the frenetic rhythm he uses when he illustrates his deductions. A sequence of sentences one after the other, fast, sharp and precise as his thoughts must be. Lips that enchanted John the first time Sherlock curled its into a smile. Not the cynical smile, capable of frightening, nor the ironic or sarcastic one, that would have liked to punch him. A serene, sincere and innocent smile like that of a child. A child capable of seeing and understanding everything except emotions and the human soul, apparently.

Finally, Sherlock's hands fascinated John. Big hands, confident in grabbing evidence, in recovering clues, in bringing punches if necessary. Hands that act with the same aseptic precision of Sherlock's thoughts, when he works on his experiments, when he cares to derive answers from the evidence he recovers. The same hands that John first strong squeeze in front of the door of what would become their home. The last soft and lukewarm squeeze, even, while taking care of the wrist that John injured him.

The rest of Sherlock is something too big to be supported in its entirety. The sensuality that shines through every movement when he lets himself be carried away by the music he plays and composes. The rapid movements that make him so similar to a hound when he follows the track during the investigation. The rigidity in moments of embarrassment or uncertainty and the laxity of the endless days of boredom. John would go crazy if he took all these things together. For this reason, his attention always goes to these three elements: eyes, lips and hands.

The thought that those eyes can look at someone else with desire, that those lips can smile sweetly at someone else and those hands touch another's body annoys John. Yes he can't tolerate it

"You are cooked, dear Johnny!" Chuckles Harriet in his head and John chuckles in turn, barely looking away from the consultant and then bringing him back. He discovers that Sherlock is looking at him in turn. John smiles at him without realizing it. In fact, he usually represses this spontaneity, especially with Sherlock. John sees him wavering. His eyes widening just a little more, before answering him smile. Everything around him could even break out right now and John wouldn't even realize it.

His heart begins to beat wildly when he sees Sherlock walking towards him. John shifts the weight of his body several times from one foot to the other, feeling strangely uncomfortable. It is the first time, this one, that he will find himself talking to Sherlock face to face after that absent-minded kiss that he placed on Sherlock's forehead the night before. A trivial matter, which could also be considered normal between two friends. What harm is there, after all, in a gesture of affection? However, this is not their case. The tension between them is so high that it sometimes leads him to leave the house just to be able to breathe. Even now John wishes he could get out of that house, get away from him.

<< What about Mycroft doing? >> Sherlock asks him, just taking a look in the direction of his brother.

<< I give her a few more minutes before exploding >> John replies with a smile.

<< I bet two >>.

<< I don't bet with you, you know >> he chuckles and Sherlock follows him. Here they are, as always laughing in the less suitable places and times. They try to restore a demeanor, touched by the grim look of Greg, who would like to be everywhere except there.

<< There, however, how is it going? >> John asks him with a nod of chin to Fox, concentrated on the laptop screen.

<< Very good >> Sherlock replies. << Sky is destroying the portal structure one piece at a time. A virtually compelling pursuit >>.

<< How come you're not there, then? >> asks him and Sherlock looks away.

<< Because I caught the signs of the impending explosion in the air >> he whispers, getting closer to him. John should move and stop staring at him, by making the gaze travel incessantly from his eyes to his lips. Lips that curve in an even bigger smile and the temptation to grab him by the collar of his jacket and make them his is so strong.

<< Always all the fault of your damned job! >>.

Here is Hurricane Margaret. John sees Mycroft slowly close his eyes, sighing before turning his gaze to his brother and his desperate resignation towards mankind.

<< Do you realize how your selfish need to satisfy your ego by accumulating promotions has brought your daughter into the arms of similar criminals? >> Margaret shouts, inveighing against Greg. << You are absolutely the worst father on earth, Gregory! >>.

<< Shut up! >> shouts Lizzy, reaching her mother with fury with big steps. << I won't let you use me to cover my father with misery! >> she pointing her with the finger and Margaret looks at her in amazement and bewildered by that heated and unexpected reaction.

<< Lizzy, calm down >> Greg asks, defending his ex-wife, despite everything.

<< No, Dad, I don't calm down anymore! >> exclaims the girl out of her mind. << I can't stand what she did to you! I can't stand that I can't be with you, even if for a short time. I do not accept this decision and I do not take peace of the fact that even for a moment I thought she was right and that it was fine with you. I thought that you really didn't want to stay with us and that you didn't love us anymore, as she continues to say >>.

<< You can't understand! You're still too young, Lizzy! >> retorts the mother, her voice broken by tears for the accusations suffered. << Your father was never here. He always investigate with that one >> she says, pointing Sherlock, imperturbable. << I felt abandoned and I could not bear that you grew up without a father >>.

<< So you thought well to try to turn us against him, by spitting poison towards him and not losing an opportunity to put him in a bad light. Oh, what a good person you are! This makes you an excellent mother, congratulations >> chuckles Lizzy.

<< I did what I thought was the best thing for you and your brother! >>.

<< I already told you to stop using us to justify your miseries! >> shouts Lizzy, forcing Greg to hold her still so as not to jump against her mother. << It is not true that he is not a good father and in my opinion he was not even a bad husband >>.

<< Lizzy, stop it >> Greg try to stem her.

<< Dad has always been very sweet to you. Of course there was for few time here, but when you married him you knew he was a detective and he wanted to make a career. George and I could not choose. We arrived later and we found the situation as it is. Instead, you could have chosen to not marry him.

That now you accusing him of never being here I find it absurd >> she says, putting on the same expression of contempt that John has seen so many times in the face of Greg.

<< You are so unfair >> Margaret says to her between sobs. Mycroft looks at her in disgust, by taking a few steps back. << You have no idea what I went through in the past year! >>.

<< Do you really tell me this? >> Lizzy explodes like a fury. << You spending your days in the gym fucking with your instructor >>.

<< Lizzy, now stop it! >> Greg thunders with a tone so impressive as to frighten everyone present. His daughter looks at him in amazement before melting into tears.

<< But it is so, Dad >> she says, holding on to his arms. << She was with him when ... she was not here when ... we were alone George and I and if he had not been here ... >> the sobs have the upper hand, while Greg looks at her terrified by what she has not told him.

John feels his stomach ache pierced by new stilettos. He know well Greg's disbelief. One cannot but remain incredulous and dismayed at such manifestations of despair.

<< Lizzy ... what happened? >> Greg just whispers. The girl shakes her head vigorously and Greg is unable to insist. He turns his gaze to his son, who watches the scene from the furthest point of the room, but he also knows that he will not get any answer from him.

<< The decision to get help, sometimes comes before the worst is accomplished, sometimes after having survived it >> says Mycroft in a heavy tone, appeasing the girl's incessant cry for a moment. Lizzy looks at him, in amazement, and finds no comfort in his expression, nor any emotion. She clasps herself to his father's chest, looking away from the ice man.

<< Sleeping pills. A whole bottle >> continues analytical Mycroft. << Fortunately, she got scared and sought help, finding that of her younger brother, equally scared >> he says, turning his gaze to Geore. Like his sister, the boy also looks away, frightened. << Two kids left to themselves, lost in the desperation of a world that collapses around them, in the absolute indifference of the adults present. Let me tell you, lady, that you are lucky >> says Mycroft, turning his icy gaze on Margaret. The woman, already devastated by what she has heard, looks at him with amazement. << You are lucky to have married an honest, balanced man with a solid morality and strong ethics. A man who didn't kill you as soon as he found out he was betrayed. He is a smart detective and if only he had wanted he could have made your body disappear or turned your death into an accident and be credible to the point of leaving himself clean. Only someone like my brother would have noticed his guilt, but I don't think he would have raised a finger against him >>.

<< For once we agree, Mycroft >> Sherlock replies with the same coldness.

<< For this reason I tell you that you was lucky. And you decided to turn your backto this luck . Pathetic >> Mycroft says disgusted. << Your children are lucky because they have a good father next to them. One of those fathers who continues to love them, who never doubts or gives up and who continues to struggle despite having no faults. The children for whom you says you are fighting and who, instead, you have put them in dangered them, by leaving them at the mercy of themselves, this children are lucky because they will overcome this bad moment, knowing that they can count on their father, although if he stay with them for few time >> Mycroft says, smiling at Greg, who blushes embarrassed by these heartfelt words, which everyone couldn't think could have come from someone like Mycroft.

<< Your are lucky, lady, because you have a brave son >> Mycroft continues, turning his gaze back to George who, called into question, barely looks up at him. << A boy who used the knowledge gained from watching movies to save his sister and who decided to turn to the consulting detective whose extraordinary talents his father speaks so much about, frightened by the idea that his sister could have ended in a bad trouble. This curiosity about the investigations that make you fear so much that he could decide to follow in his father's footsteps >> Mycroft says, smiling at the boy, who sketches a smile in turn. << In my opinion, he would be wrong if he didn't >> he adds, making George blush with embarrassment.

John takes a deep breath realizing that he has been in apnea for the whole long Mycroft's monologue. He returned to that cold winter evening in which he saved his first life: the life of his sister. John was the same age as George and, like him, he was scared to death. Despite the terror, however, he had used the first aid lessons learned in school and had induced her sister to vomit the countless pills that she had take with an exaggerated amount of alcohol. Harriet, just 18, was exhausted by the accusations of her mother, by the people's gossips, by the bullying she suffered in school. She, so apparently strong, had collapsed revealing the fragile soul that still characterizes her today. That soul that made it difficult for her to separate from the bottle for so long. Maybe only now, finally, the strength of the past has returned to her allowing her to get back on her feet. Now that their parents are no hurt her. Now that there are no more classmates that accuse her of being indecent and monstrous. Now that, perhaps, the world is starting to be more open to all forms of love.

John agrees with Mycroft in thinking that only thanks to Greg's loving presence will his children come out a little bruised but substantially unharmed from this bad experience. John would never have imagined finding such comfort even for himself in Mycroft's words. Words that, although they were not addressed directly to him, he had been waiting for years. The stomach has stopped hurting him and has relaxed. Finally, after so many days, it is giving him a breather.

John sees Greg silently thanking Mycroft, who just bows his head in response. Margaret keeps her gaze down, completely devoid of the strength to reply to those sharp and true words.

<< Your brother has just bought points in my eyes >> John whispers to Sherlock, discreetly approaching his ear.

The two brothers remain locked in each other's eyes for a long time. John imagines that they are communicating with thought. He is certain that two like them would be able to do it.

Something diverts the consultant's attention. Sherlock brings his hand to his right ear and looks at Fox. The journalist, with tense expression, looks at him while heading purposefully toward him. John remains in his place and witnesses another wordless communication. He sees Sherlock turn pale and put his hand to his mouth. Fox must have given him a bad, indeed, very bad news.

<< So, Mr. Fox, how is the operation? >> Mycroft question, which has not escaped his brother's attitude and the journalist.

<< Magnificently, Mr. Holmes! > Fox answers with a big and false smile. << My colleague literally tore the portal to pieces. Currently, Polish law enforcement agencies are going to retrieve the 26-year-old Dimitrj Vadlila, the evil genius who put all this mess up! It will be a real pleasure for me to ask him why his crazy plan and obviously I will keep you updated >> Fox says, getting up from his chair.

<< Wait, you mean it's really over? >> John asks incredulously.

<< Finished is a rather big word, Dr. Watson >> replies Fox. << Let's say that we have reached an excellent turning point in the investigation. Once the brain of the organization is found, turning off the neurons one by one will be easier, but still exhausting. We have already blocked the cells that had been created in Spain, Germany, France and here in England. Gray, my boss, is still controlling the presence of similar suicides in other nations, and now that we put our hands on the mind of the portal, even this process will be faster. Always assuming that he wants to collaborate >>.

<< In case it serves, our government will be happy to make itself useful by making available its ... means of persuasion >> says Mycroft and it is really strange to see him so willing to help others.

<< Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Our means of persuasion are also very efficient, but we will not give up accepting your help in case the subject proves to be a tough nut to crack >>.

<< I fear that he will be >> Mycroft replies. He keeps his brother and the journalist under his icy gaze for a long time. They, inscrutable, support his analysis. << I would say that it is better to talk about it in my office >> Mycroft adds, underlining with his voice how much that is not a proposal but rather an order. << Are you joining us, Lestrade? >> he asks the detective, amazed at having been pulled in the middle.

<< I would like to say yes, but the investigations are under my responsibility and the chief commissioner would kill me if I did not carry them all the way >> Greg replies. << Just give me time to fix some things >> he asks, turning his gaze to his children and Margaret, standing at a distance from each other much greater than the physical one. Mycroft agrees with a gesture of the head.

<< I'll join you at Diogenes >> says the detective, approaching his destroyed family.

<< Do we want to go? >> Mycroft asks the three men with the same tone of false courtesy. They follow him on the road, where the dark car is waiting for them. Anthea waits for them diligently at the car door and John finds himself, despite himself, sitting between the consultant and the journalist. The short journey proceeds in a silence made of gazes and silent conversations that completely cut off John, who feels uncomfortable and out of place.

They arrive at the club and reach the Mycroft office, where they close leaving the world outside.

<< I thought, Mr. Fox, that you and your colleagues were fighting to bring the truth to the surface >> Mycroft begins, sitting down theatrical in his armchair.

<< It is what we do, Mr. Holmes >> retorts the quiet man.

<< Yet it is a partial truth that I witnessed a moment ago >>.

<< I didn't think it appropriate to put Lestrande aside from the whole one >>.

<< Why on earth? >> John asks, frowning. Fox exchanges a glance with Sherlock and John does not need the Holmes acumen to understand who made the decision to make that omission.

<< In order not to deteriorate the relationship between Sherlock and his pusher of investigation >> Fox replies with a smile.

<< Very interesting choice of words, Fox >> underlines Mycroft.

<< Completely wrong >> retorts John. << Greg is not a pusher of investigations for Sherlock, but a friend >>.

<< So, Doctor, do you want connoting my brother emotionally? >> Mycroft chuckles and anger mounts in John's belly.

<< I have not connoted, but simply observed. Yes, be surprised! >> John chuckles in turn. << I don't understand why this strange game you are playing, where it seems you want to reduce a friend to a simple useful object >>.

<< Gregory Lestrade is in danger, Dr. Watson >> reveals Fox, receiving a glare from the Holmes brothers. << He was in danger and he still is in danger >>. John straightens his back and a shiver of awareness runs through him.

<< Who is really behind the Fenix portal? >> John askd and the journalist smiles satisfied with his intuition.

<< A very, very dangerous individual that you and Sherlock had the opportunity to meet a short time ago >> replies the man, articulating the words well.

<< Moriarty! >> John exclaims. He feels the weight of that explosive-laden jacket on him. In the belly the fear that the sniper fires making him blow up. Fear that then gave way to determination, when, with that exchange of glances with Sherlock, he said him that he was ready to die in order to stop the mad criminal consultant.

<< The Fenix portal, a complex and well-organized system that has been operating for months in most of Europe and impossible to eradicate >> Sherlock whispers, his gaze lost in front of him. << I feared from the first moments that there was Moriarty behind that hellish circle. The constant failures of Sky always gave me confirmation >>.

<< The certainty came when we compared the messages sent to the children who committed suicide with those received by Daisy Cooper, Rosaline Jackson and Elisabeth Lestrade >> says Fox.

<< What was different? >> asks John, who is struggling to withstand the tension generated by having just mentioned the name of Moriarty.

<< The tone of the threats >> says Sherlock. << Sadistic and cruel. The photos posted online of Lizzy, taken too far in time compared to when the girl signed up to the portal. Photo that comes from an external source and not from the girl's hard disk or from the images posted on her social networks >>.

<< Do you mean that someone was keeping an eye on her from before? >> John asks him and Sherlcok slowly nods.

<< Those threats, as well as the tutor who was assigned to them, all arrived from a cell located in the Caribbean, a clear sign of the presence of a hacker who wants to keep hidden from his true position >> continues Fox. << Daisy and Rosaline found themselves mixed in something even bigger in the already big mess they had entered. With their mania for protagonism, they have made known to the Masters who Elisabeth's father was, pushing the Master to exclude her. The goal, however, was to carry her forward >>.

<< Why? >>.

<< Because this would have destroyed Greg, John. His reputation. This would destroied what's left of his family in an even heavier way than a suicide >>.

<< It is absurd, Sherlock >> chuckles the doctor. << This makes us understand how Moriarty doesn't knows nothing about human nature! A daughter who kills herself destroys her father much more than discovering her stuck in a round of pedoprostitution and seeing her compromising photos online. It is certainly not pleasant, but at least one does not cry over a lifeless corps >>.

<< I fully agree with you, John >> Fox nods, while the two Holmes look at him with the same skeptical expression.

<< You said you omitted the truth to prevent the relationship between Greg and Sherlock from deteriorating >>.

<< It wasn't my idea >> says the man, turning his accusing gaze to the consultant. << But you've already understood that, Dr. Watson. I am of the opinion that ,in the face of desperate situations, acting in the shadows, hiding what is being experienced to the friends, is both more harmful and beneficial. The lie deteriorate the relationships, my dear Holmes, not the truth and you should know it >> Fox scolds the two brothers, who close in an unusual mutism.

<< Do you think it's the continuation of the crazy game in which Moriarty involved Sherlock last month? >>.

<< No, John >> replies the reporter. << I think he wanted to show him how he can be able to implement his threat >>.

<< I don't see how my heart could burn with this story >> Sherlock annoys annoyed.

<< Really? >> Fox chuckles. << The involvement of Lizzy and Greg has upset you, as well as realizing how Moriarty can act to accomplish his purpose >>.

<< I am not upset >> the consultant replies acid.

Two knocks on the door interrupt them. A breathless Greg joins them by taking a seat on the armchair left especially for him.

<< There is an atmosphere far from pleasant here >> he says with a smile. << Your faces don't say anything good. What is happening? >>.

<< Behind the Fenix portal there are Moriarty's hands >> replies John without going around much.

<< Moriarty? The crazy dynamiter who staged that game just for you last month? >> Greg asks Sherlock, who nods slowly. << Sherlock had lost his tracks after almost blowing you up in the pool >> Greg says turning to John. << And now we find him behind a site to lure kids. My God ... your fans are scary, Sherlock >> Greg chuckles nervously. << How do you plan to move? >>.

<< The moment we discovered him, he deactivated all his accounts and we lost his contact. It would have been difficult to trace the real host from the fictional Caribbean one, but at least we would have had a chance. Now not even this >> Fox snorts. << As I said, we will continue the research of other cells around the world, in order to eradicate them. The portal no longer exists and many people linked to it have been arrested. We just have to hope that no emuls are born and that the young in crisis can really be helped by those who are able to do it.

<< Also count on me for the continuation of the investigations >>.

<< Actually I was hoping for it, Sherlock >> Fox says, taking his hand. << Eyes like yours always come in handy >> he adds, smiling at him and John's stomach aches again.

<< Do I have to expect to see you stay away for another year? >> asks Mycroft.

<< I don't think I could bear it for so long >> Fox laughs heartily.

<< I can always take back the proposal >> retorts Sherlock angrily. << And anyway, no, if I offer myself it is to shorten the investigation time. I will be away for a couple of weeks at most >>.

<< Well, then I would say that I await updates from you >> says Mycroft, standing up, giving them to understand that the session is ended.

<< Me too >> echoes Greg, getting up in turn. << Those bastards you caught have a scary list of precedents! The detention has been validated and I think they will be guests of the prisons for a long time. You have to go to the police station for the deposition. All of you >> Greg says, looking them in the eyes one by one.

<< Then it would be better if I remove this urgency immediately. I may not be so available anymore. I have a diplomatic meeting soon >> says Mycroft, looking at the clock. << Want a ride, detective? >> Mycroft asks Greg, who hesitates about what to do for a few moments before accepting.

<< It was a pleasure to see you again Fox and I thank you for what you have done for my daughter >> says Greg to the journalist, offering him the hand that Fox shakes vigorously.

The detective then approaches the consultant and holds him tightly in an embrace, catching him completely off guard.

<< You saved my baby's life, Sherlock. I will be eternally grateful to you >>.

<< I didn't do anything exceptional >> Sherlcok mumbles embarrassed, motionless in the strong arms that hold him.

<< Stop it with these bullshit! She would have thrown herself from the balcony of the library if it hadn't been for your intervention >> insists Greg holding him tight.

<< It was Fox who convinced her to desist from her intent, not me >>.

<< But it was you who put him on her >> Greg continues, moving away from him, while still keeping his hands on his shoulders. << I don't know what I would have done if Lizzy had made that crazy gesture. She is now destroyed and it will take time for she to recover, for everyone to find a bit of balance. But she's alive and that's what counts >> Greg says, smiling while his eyes get wet.

<< You saved me, I would say it was the least I could do for you >> Sherlock replies with a smile.

<< I wasn't expecting anything in return. I am happy to know you are clean. For a long time I wondered what could push a man with a brilliant intelligence like yours to throw himself away like that. After what happened to Lizzy, I think that you, like her, also had bad parents >>.

<< You are not a bad father. Believe me, I know how is a bad father >> says Sherlock, turning his gaze slightly to his brother, standing by the door of his study. Taking Greg by surprise, the consultant takes the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. << You stopped with this stuff, remember? >> he says, winking at him.

<< You're right >> Greg replies, giving him a pat on the shoulder. << See you >> Greg says to John winking, before following the major of the Holmes out of his study.

<< I have to fix a few things, before Gray kills me >> says Fox as they leave the silent club. << I will leave for Madrid tomorrow morning. Let me know if you join me or if you will join me later. And remember what I said, Billy >> Fox says, pointing his finger at him. The consultant nods embarrassed and the reporter chuckles shaking his head. Fox brings his hand to caress Sherlock's pale cheek and, with a tried and tested gesture that must be normal to each other, brings the consultant closer to him, by placing a kiss on his forehead.

<< Cuidate, hermano[1] >> Fox whispers, placing his forehead against Sherlock's. They exchange a smile before parting. << Doctor Watson, I honestly don't know yet whether to say it was a pleasure or not. I'll find out in case we have a chance to meet again. Meanwhile, I salute you and invite you to do something for your explosive anger >> Fox says, hinting at a military salute. He strode away, leaving them on the sidewalk in front of the Diogenes Club. Sherlock lights one of Greg's cigarettes and takes a long drag.

<< It seemed to me that you too had stopped with that stuff >> John says, looking at him wrong. Sherlock hands him the cigarette.

<< I don't smoke, you know >>.

<< I do not believe that you never made a shot >> insists. John takes the cigarette with uncertain fingers and takes a long mouthful of it, spitting out the smoke with a cough. It makes him disgusted and annoyed by his smile.

<< What do you want to say to me with this? >>.

<< That there is nothing wrong with sharing a cigarette >> Sherlock replies, by taking a mouthful and then blowing the smoke away. John has to admit it's a somewhat erotic scene, but he immediately shakes off that completely out of place thought. Sherlock extinguishes the cigarette that has just started and throws it away along with the whole package. He stop a taxi with his usual tried and tested gesture and let them take them to Baker Street.

[1] Take care of yourself, brother


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sherlock and John arrive at 221B after a taxi trip spent in silence, each lost in his own reflections. John lets Sherlock lead the way, as always, walking in front of him. Sherlock reaches the apartment first and when John closes the door behind him, he finds him intent on fixing the chairs on which the three Lestrade have sat.

John remains still, his hands behind his back, watching Sherlock do that unusual job of tidying up before sitting down in his armchair. Only then does John take his place. John sees Sherlock looking an unspecified point on the chimney and he decides that it takes tea to face the latter part of the story. John puts the kettle on and prepares the cups, occasionally glancing at his flatmate, always lost in contemplating the fireplace. John sits down with the two cups in his hand and, contrary to what he thought, Sherlock wakes up to take his own from him.

<< That long story >> says John after taking a refreshing sip. << I would say that the time has come to tell me >>.

Sherlock sketches a smile, taking a sip of the tea and takes time. John lets him do it. Patience isn't what he needs, no matter what the journalist says about anger management.

<< As you may have guessed, Fox is one of the investigative journalists who make up the editorial team of 'El mundo'. We worked together on several cases years ago and we kept in touch via e-mail, updating each other on our lives >> Sherlock says, looking up at him before returning it to the cup. << He contacted me with a message when we left the Jackson's house to tell me he was in London. Using the music code, Fox told me he was on an undercover mission for the investigation into cyber bullying they are working on and that led them to run into this portal >>.

<< The music code? >> curious John asks.

<< The medley play by the guitarist in Trafalgar Square, that made you so nervous >>.

<< Was that jumble of songs without logical sense a message? >>.

<< Madrilenians have somewhat curious but very effective methods >> Sherlock replies, laughing at his amazement. << That afternoon we probed the girl's social life and drawings. Subsequently, it was enough for me that Fox provided me with little data among those recovered to understand that Rosaline Jackson had had to do with the Fenix. Fox asked me to collaborate, but he asked me also to keep the secret about their involvement in the investigation and I gave him my word. Until the situation has degenerated >>.

<< Until you had to talk us about their involment on the investigation and also bring your brother on the case >>.

<< Which I would have sincerely spared >> Sherlock says, taking another sip of the.

<< So I leave you alone for two days on a case and you turn it into the plot of a James Bond film, complete with an investigative journalist, quick-witted, accustomed to being on the front line and with a skill in disguises like Diabolik >>.

<< To whom? >>.

<< Forget it >> John chuckles, shaking his head. Sherlock first looks at him in amazement, then joins in his laughter and there they are, laughing again like two teenagers.

<< Mycroft said you're his favorite Holmes >> says John, trying not to show how important that information is to him.

<< I have to think, John, that are you jealous? >> Sherlock asks him after a short pause.

<< I felt replaced, Sherlock. From a professional, moreover, against which I certainly cannot compete >>.

<< Why should you compete with Fox? >> Sherlock asks him, placing the now empty cup on the arm of the armchair.

<< You are right. There is absolutely no history >> John says and a twinge pierces his stomach.

<< I'm afraid I have not explained well >> says Sherlock, joining his fingers under his chin. << There is no competition, John. That evening it was raining and Fox and I we were wet to the bone. So when you arrived I was in dressing gowns and he was in the shower. You, however, saw a part of the story and mounted it for your use and consumption, even thinking that I was neglecting the case and give myself a very trivial adventure, when, instead, I spent the night in the social media of that girl. I would say that if there is someone who should feel offended and humiliated that is me. You really believed that I could bring perfect strangers to bed. >>.

<< There would be nothing wrong >> John says, trying to minimize the relief he is feeling.

<< If there is nothing wrong then why did we get to this? >> Sherlock asks him, showing his wrist from the bruise now yellowed.

<< I ... I still apologize for that >> John says, looking away. << I guess Fox didn't like this. He thought that I was the a man prone to violence >>.

<< Yes. And I assure you that it was not easy for me to explain the opposite >>.

<< In fact, it was clear enough to tell me that he doesn't trust me >>.

<< Unfortunately it is so. You realize, John, that your jealousy is absurd, since we ... >>

<< We are a couple >> concludes the doctor for him.

Sherlock looks at him in amazement and John feels an unusual pleasure in being able to amaze the brilliant consulting detective. John sees Sherlock move on the chair, suddenly uncomfortable, change the crossing of the legs and risk dropping the cup perched on the armrest.

<< It is not true >> Sherlock replies, looking at him seriously.

<< Yes it is >>.

<< And since when would we be? Why, sorry, but I missed it >>.

<< I would say from the moment Mike Stenford introduced us at the Bart's >>.

<< Don't you think you're exaggerating? >>.

<< No >> John answers, by crossing his arms over his chest. Sherlock watches him silently for a long time and John lets him doing, not at all intimidated by his inscrutable poker face.

<< This ... thing >> Sherlock says, sighing. << It is not feasible, John >>.

<< Why? >>.

<< Because you would be even more in danger than you already are if we really decided to ... >>.

<< Being together >> concludes John, now determined to go all the way. << Is it for Moriarty? >> asks him and Sherlock nods.

<< You saw what is happen to Greg and he is just ... my pusher of cases >>.

<< Greg is not only that. It seems to me that I understood that he ... saved your life >>.

<< Yes >> Sherlock nods, looking away. << He told me that it could gave me the opportunity to experiment with my method, but only if I had stopped using drugs >>.

<< And you did it >>.

<< I couldn't miss an opportunity like this! >>.

John laughs first slowly then louder. He gives him an amused look, involving him in his laughter. They both abandon themselves tired of laughter against the backs of their respective armchairs. The heads leaned back and the breath excited.

<< I don't care about the danger, Sherlock >> says John seriously, pulling his head up.

<< Please, stop it! >> exclaims the exhausted consultant. << Don't you realize that this is how it works? >>.

<< Yes, I realize it, but this is not a good reason not to say things as they are. You saved the life of a friend's daughter. You made a beautiful gesture and you are doing everything to minimize it, to not get emotionally involved. You can't become a cold machine just to stop Moriarty from acting his intent, Sherlock. Don't you realize that, by doing this, you still play his game? >>.

<< I ... I don't want anyone else to be involved in this challenge that he launched me >>.

<< So what are you going to do? You want to isolate yourself, stop your work and retire to a deserted island where you won't be able to ... harm anyone? >>.

<< I could act undisturbed against him, at least >>.

<< No. Don't even think about it, Sherlock. I won't let you! >> John says, springing up, his finger pointed at him. << Don't you understand that this is what that madman wants? He want to get you away from everything that makes you human. He wanto to make you think you are a source of suffering for the people you care about >>.

<< And isn't that so, John? >> Sherlock blurts, getting up in turn. << Do you think I was pleased to see you dressed in explosives? That I was pleased to see you used as a pawn in a game? It was one of the worst moments of my life! >> Sherlock shouts, clenching his fists and John grabs them holding them tight in his small but determined hands.

<< I was ready to blow up with you >>.

<< You shouldn't have been there! >>.

<< He, however, put me there >>.

<< And this is not good, don't you understand? The most logical thing you should do would be to leave, John. Anyone would do it before the risk of becoming a continuous bait and I don't understand why you didn't do it >>.

<< Why do not I bend to the games of a madman, Sherlock >> John growls, clutching Sherlock's wrists even more. << He wants this, don't you realize it? He wants to divide us >>.

<< I know >>.

<< If you know, why you want to give it win to him? >>.

<< Because I don't want to lose you! >> Sherlock shouts exasperated.

Silence falls like a warm blanket over them. They look away from each other and return to each other several times, unable to say anything else. John eases the pressure on Sherlock's wrists and goes down to take his hands. He squeezes them tightly, feeling them cold.

<< I'm also afraid of losing you, Sherlock >> John whispers, looking at those big hands. << I had it when I saw you here with that boy. When I saw you by chance in that alley with what I believe to be Peter and now ... I'm afraid that for fear of something happening to me because of Moriarty you can decide to go away from me >> John says, raising his eyes to meet those of Sherlock, full of emotion. << You didn't save only Lizzy from suicide, you know? >>.

<< John, don't ... >>.

<< Listen to me! >> asks him, shaking his hands. << Before meeting you at the Bart's, that afternoon six months ago, I sat every night with the gun in my hand on the miserable bed of the shabby apartment of the pension where I lived. I looked at the gun, felt its weight, the cold iron that never heats up completely in contact with the skin and I tried to give the order to my left hand to bring it to the temple and shoot. I had lost everything, Sherlock. Everything I had fought for. The brilliant militar career that opened before me, a satisfying job, the large family of fellow soldiers and superiors of which I now felt part of. All lost, due to a rifle shot fired by I don't even know who during a war that didn't belong to me. This was enough. I was no longer able to serve, so they discarded me with a medal, many beautiful words and a poor pension. I couldn't stand it. Not because of the effort of getting used to civil life again, as Ella says, but because I felt rejected, abandoned, thrown away like a broken piece that can no longer be used. You picked me up, Sherlock. You gave me a place to stay, the chance to still feel useful and to continue fighting a war that I feel most mine, this time. For you I'm not a broken piece. You also healed my psychosomatic lameness within an evening simply by giving me confidence. You went beyond the pitiful lame that everyone saw, the war veteran who, poor man, must reintegrate into society, even if I was a criminal who came out after years in prison. I owe you my life, Sherlock, because if I hadn't met you, one of those evenings my left hand would have obeyed the order and I ... now I wouldn't be here >>.

Sherlock swallows and shakes his hands tightly. Several times he tries to look John in the eye but he can't.

<< It was thanks to Mike ... >>.

<< Oh, stop it! >> John snorts, tugging at his hands. << Thanks to Mike, thanks to the chanse, who cares, the substance does not change, Sherlock! Allow me to fight alongside you against that madman and to be ... with you, if you want it >>.

<< If I want it? Oh, Lord, you can't even imagine >> Sherlock says, barely holding back the tears. John lets go of laughter, one of those laden with satisfaction and pure joy. A laugh that has the effect of warming his now lighter belly. John brings his hand to caress the pale cheek of his consulting detective. With the same fluid gesture of Fox he brings Sherlock's amezed face closer to his. But it is not on Sherlock's forehead that he wants to put a kiss. John brushes Sherlock's lips, parted with surprise. He caresses them with his, feeling Sherlock gradually respond to the kiss.

He discovers, John, by kissing the man who loves, how curative the truth is. Once the weight of fears, of the sense of duty, of the memories has been removed, he lives this beautiful moment with serenity, touching Sherlock's long and slim body with his hands, holding him in an embrace perhaps too possessive, but which he now needs.

<< The investigation is not over. Will you leave with me? >> Sherlock asks him, just separating from his lips.

<< I wouldn't leave you alone with that Fox even if someone ordered me >> John replies, making Sherlock laugh out loud. John bite Sherlock's lower lip, squeezing him even more in his arms. << Am I officially reinstated? >> John asks him, pressing the pelvis against his.

<< Officially by my side >> Sherlock replies, taking John's face in his hands. << I would be lost without my blogger >> he whispers, sinking his hands into John's hair, involving him in a kiss full of passion, which extinguishes reason by letting their bodies speak silently.


	9. Epilogue

Chapter 9

John lets his hand slide along the bare back of his partner, who sleeps exhausted leaning against his chest. He feels he has a happy and satisfied smile on his lips, of what his mother would have called a fool.

“Who cares, Johnny? Are you happy? Then it's okay! " retorts Harriet in John's head. His sister was very present in his thoughts. From the moment they found Rosaline's body and, unlike the pangs in the stomach totally cured by Sherlock's kisses and caresses, Harry's voice persists. Evidently she has something more to say to him. John does not like the idea of getting out of the warm bed and the scent of Sherlock that surrounds him, but he feels he must end this story.

John puts on his man's dressing gown, just to avoid getting Mrs Hudson to take an heart attack, if she decides to swoop into their private space, and reaches his cell phone abandoned on his armchair. He take his sister's number from the diary and call her.

<< Johnny? >> Harry replies in amazement.

<< Your unbelief offends me, little sister >>.

<< Yes, it's you. The usual, old and asshole Johnny >> she laughs and brings him back to the games that they usually did when they was children. When the dark times were still far away and it was not so important to love a boy or a girl. << What do I owe the honor? >>.

<< I thought about you these days and I said to myself that it wouldn't hurt to call you >>.

<< What a kind thing from you >>.

<< How are you? >>.

<< Well >> she replies. << Really, John, I'm fine. I met a really nice girl and ... well, it seems to be working. And you? >>.

<< I'm also fine. Very well >> he chuckles, thinking about the happy moments just passed.

<< You have the voice of someone who has just come out of the right side of a really interesting person's bed >> she says mischievously.

<< Indeed it is >>.

<< Oh my! What are you saying? I don't want to know these things, Johnny! >> she says horrified, vaguely assuming the tone of their mother. John laughs amused. << Why on earth do you call me after ... well come on you understand. It's not normal! >>.

<< In a way I owe it to you too, you know? >>.

<< What? >>.

<< It is not a woman >>.

<< What! >>.

<< Don't tell me that it disgusts you >>.

<< What kind of stupid thing you say?. It doesn't disgusts me. It amazes me. Do he deserves your attentions? >>.

<< Oh Lord, yes! >>.

<< He is your flatmate? The consulting detective you write about on your blog? >> she asks, excited.

<< You discovered me! >>

<< Oh! I knew! I knew that there was something! >> she screams cheerful like a child. << Don't let he go, Johnny >> adds serious.

<< I don't even think about it, Harry. I love you, little sister. Take care of yourself >>.

<< You too, little brother. I want to know him, you knows! I'm curious! >>.

John ends the conversation with his sister's cheerful laughter and feels he has put everything right. In his head, in his belly and in his heart. He go back to bed and find Sherlock turned on his side. John sinks his face into Sherlock's hair and surrounds his man's hips.

<< Are you better now? >> asks the consultant, placing a hand on his arm.

<< Yes, now yes >>.


End file.
